Maliciousness and Misunderstanding
by PippinStrange
Summary: Wren leads a realistic and unhappy life of a kitchen maid. She struggles to be friends with a wizard named Merlin, avoid strange new presences in Camelot, and not fall for a flirtatious knight named Gwaine. When rumors of Morgana's tyranny lead to mysterious murders, Wren is horrified to discover she is connected to a greater evil than she could possibly imagine.
1. Throne Room

**Maliciousness and Misunderstanding**

**By Pippin Strange**

Merlin was allowed so much freedom. He was mouthy, annoying, and got away with everything. He could slack off from chores and still manage to get it all done before getting caught. I absolutely hated Arthur's cheeky, cocky, popular manservant more than anything.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: The title is a reference to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. It's just an alternate portrayal of the angelic Merlin, and how not everyone thinks he's so wonderful. This occurs in the year between the end of s3 and the beginning of s4, when they are finally beginning to realize that Uther is incompetent to serve as ruler. Also, the chapters are terribly short because the shorter chapters enabled me to concentrate on each, singular scene with more evoking word choices and better sense of where the story was going. I don't know how but it's working for me =)<strong>

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><p><strong>PS: Please review and let me know if you want me to continue =)<strong>

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><p>-Throne Room-<p>

The King's rolling voice drifted over the heads of the courtiers, winding its way through his monthly agenda, arranging to meet various delegates and representatives, and giving ominous hints about meeting an enemy who wants Camelot for his own and how this enemy shall be vanquished.

I sighed. It was the same as usual. I cared not for the King, for he had very little to do with me. My mistress, the Lady Deanna, was the third cousin (by marriage) of the late Queen Igraine. She had very little to do except sleep, eat, wander the castle, and stand in the throne room during any public affairs. The King hardly even knew who she was, only that she had been in Igraine's group of friends, and for that reason he never spoke to her.

I felt my imagination drifting, content to ponder the stained glass windows, rather than listen to a pompous king on a velvet cushion. The life of a servant is hard, and a minute to think uninterrupted is _not _spare time that I'd like to waste upon an idle king. Especially a foolish king who is mentally incompetent to sit on the throne—someone emotionally scarred and wounded by the treachery of his bastard daughter.

Something on the stone floor squeaked. I glanced over to my left, and noticed Prince Arthur's servant glide in behind the court physician, pretending to be here all along. He had flown in so quickly that his leather boots left marks on the floor from where he slipped.

_Hmph, _I thought, _Some of us actually arrive on time even if we do not care to be here. _

Then, he actually leaned over to the court physician and began whispering, and the physician whispered back.

_Well, there's 'late', and then there is rudely late. _

The servant noticed me watching, and so I looked away, back towards the windows. I may have let out a little sigh of boredom. When my mistress heard, she quickly ground the heel of her boot into my foot, shooting a warning glance out of the corner of her eye. I bit my lip to keep from gasping in pain audibly, and snapped to attention, gingerly lifting my foot off the ground. It now hurt to put pressure on it… it's one thing to step or stomp with a heel, but to shove and then work like a pestle to a mortar, the sensitive bridge of my foot felt like delicate screams of chiseled flesh.

I don't know what caused me to lose concentration again, but I stole another glance at the late servant. He was watching me right back with a keen expression on his face, one that I returned with a look of anger.

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><p><strong>Please review! =)<strong>


	2. Hall, that night

**Since chapter one is so short, I didn't want to wait for the second one =)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**~Pip**

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><p>-Hall-<p>

"What held your attention so strictly?" demanded the Lady Deanna as soon as the court was dismissed and we were moving back towards her chambers. "I hope I will never have to do _that _again." (by that, she meant cause physical harm to me, which is what she said after _every _act of accidental disobedience).

"I was simply noting another servants lack of respect," I said dully.

The Lady Deanna nodded with a smile. "Ah, yes. And that is why I keep you around. You might be an oaf but you know _exactly _what is required." She patted my head like you would a small dog that had fetched your slippers. "Even if you do mess up a bit."

I limped along behind her, losing speed. "Yes, milady."

"I can undress myself tonight," said the Lady offhandedly, not noticing me lagging behind. "Go do whatever it is you do. Sleep soon, I've got an appointment tomorrow—early."

"Yes, milady," I said, wheeling around and heading directly for the physician's chambers. The man might have indulged the late servant boy to simply catch him up on what he had missed—the old man might not necessarily be as rude. My foot was giving me more trouble than I had thought it would—but Deanna was wearing her wooden heels, something I had not taken into account.

Though I welcomed, in a way, the distraction from my usual, mundane life, where I dreamed plenty but hoped very little. I was glad to be dismissed early and to be visiting another resident of the castle, however unpleasant the circumstances might be.

"Hey!" said a voice.

I turned and looked over my shoulder, and there was the late servant. _This evening just gets better and better. _Unable to think of anything to say, I just kept walking. Being long legged, like a spider—a big clumsy baby spider—the servant loped up and walked along side me.

"Hellooo," he said again.

"Can't you see I'm a bit preoccupied?" I said.

"With… walking?"

"I've got a place I need to go."

"_Right,_" said the servant. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Merlin!"

I walked right into his hand and stopped, annoyed. I shook his hand briefly and then resumed my jagged pace. "And I'm busy," I said.

"Busy? That's a funny name!"

I stopped. "Can I help you with something?"

"Is something wrong?"

I opened my mouth, and shut it, confused. "Wait—what do you mean?"

The servant looked down at me (lord, but he is a tall one!) and tilted his head, like a puppy. "_Aside _from the fact that you're limping, I'm wondering if there's something else wrong?"

I looked at the ceiling, and back at him. "I'm a servant."

"As am I."

"Which means I don't share that sort of thing out loud. If something is ever wrong, it is not my place to complain nor make my complaint known by any of my actions."

"I do," laughed Merlin.

"So?"

"I dunno, it's just, you seemed—well—did I do something to offend you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You were late to the King's announcements."

"Arthur likes to keep me late and make me clean his room."

_Did he really just call him 'Arthur'? 'MAKE' him?_

"For your own sake," I found myself saying quietly, "You'd best keep your head down and learn to lose your cheek. It could get you killed."

Merlin laughed. "I'm not in any danger from _Arthur, _he can't live without me!"

My mouth fell open. "Aren't you going to use his TITLE?"

"I never do."

First, I could never admit I was jealous. I could see _exactly _what the problem was. The Prince and Merlin must be friends, and that is why there's so much familiarity… or disrespect. I wished I could have it—serve someone I had known all my life, perhaps? Or someone who treated me with kindness? I wish I could act as Merlin did, but I was as a dog with its tail tucked and a whine in its throat.

As I usually do when confronted with people different than I, with Merlin I instantly grew wary, defensive, even hostile to a point. I'd been like that all my young life.

"What is it?" asked Merlin. "I really am curious as to why my lateness offends you."

"It doesn't offend me, it's just that not all of us can be so lucky to miss half a meeting," I said, off-handedly. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Oh, that's right, I interrupted you," Merlin said, a little apologetic. "Bye."

"Bye," I said nastily, and limped away. Merlin stood where he was, then, he clasped his hands behind his back and casually followed me, humming.

I whirled around. "What are you doing?"

"I am going home for the night, is that all right with you?" Merlin said with a smile. "We just happen to be going the same direction."

I made a frustrated 'huff' sound and tried to ignore him. He kept an annoying distance, purposefully slowing his stride so as to never catch up to me, but to be a close six feet behind me the whole way.

When I finally stopped at the door of the physician's chambers, Merlin stopped.

"Is this where you stop?" Merlin asked, surprised.

"Oh, lord," I said, looking back at him. "Don't tell me…"

"I live here."

"Of course you do," I snapped back, raising a fist to rap on the door. Instead, Merlin slipped in beside me and opened it right up, pushing the door open and beckoning me in.

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><p><strong>Aren't those popular boys so annoying when they show how human they are? I love chuckling over these, it reminds me of a very important lesson I learned about friendship that I hope to show throughout this story ;) <strong>

**Reviews are highly appreciated! Let me know if I should continue?**


	3. The Physician's Chamber

**Chapter three for you all, just because they're so short, I feel badly uploading only one at a time ;)**

**Happy reading!**

**love,**

**Pip**

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><p>-The Physician's Chamber-<p>

"Come in, come in," Merlin said. The physician sat at a table, looking at old manuscripts through round spectacles. He glanced up at Merlin's entrance. "Oh, Merlin," he greeted, standing. He walked over to us. "And who have you brought with you?"

"He didn't bring me," I said quickly. "I've just come to see you. I've seemed to have hurt my foot."

"Someone stomped on it," Merlin interjected. "On purpose."

There was an awkward silence as I looked at Merlin incredulously, and the physician followed suit.

"I _saw _it," Merlin added.

"That's nothing," I said quickly.

"Well—why don't you sit down, my dear, and I'll have a look," the Physician led me over to a bench, where I sat. He sat across from me. Merlin followed on our heels, and stood there awkwardly.

"Your supper is waiting at the table," the physician hinted.

"Right," Merlin said, sitting heavily down and beginning to shovel stew into his mouth.

I shook myself out of my stare and turned my full attention towards the physician. "I don't believe we've met," I said politely, holding out my hand. "I'm Wren. I'm a servant for the Lady Deanna."

"Ah, yes," said the Physician. "My name is Gaius. I am curious, though, Wren; I thought the Lady Deanna had another servant."

"Yes, that servant died in the dragon attack," I said, noticing Merlin stiffen considerably. "My previous mistress was the Madam Sherman—a courtier. She also died, sadly, when the waters of Camelot were poisoned and that terrible plague killed many. I began work for the Lady Deanna not long after the dragon was killed."

"And how do you like it?" Gaius made conversation.

"It doesn't matter what I like," I shrugged.

"I suppose not," Gaius smiled at me. "And your foot?"

I slipped off my shoe, and sighed to see it had already turned purple. "Just bruised," I said. "I wanted to ask if you had a salve for bad bruising… or something…"

"May I?" Gaius inclined his hands.

"Mhm," I nodded.

Gaius held my foot gently and slowly began to push on the bruise. I winced, and he released pressure immediately. "Aha!" he said, cheerfully. "Nothing broken."

"Good," I sighed.

"But one of the ligaments is torn. I'll need to put a bit of rag around it and tie it, just to keep everything in one place."

I looked confused.

"To keep nothing else from tearing," he added.

"Oh," I said in a small voice, feeling light headed. "Torn?"

"Just a little rip. It's really the bruising that is giving you the most pain."

I hummed, disgustedly. "Will it keep me from work?"

"I wouldn't walk on it for a day, if I were you," Gaius said. At my doubtful look, he added, "Perhaps if I spoke to your mistress…?"

"No," I said hastily. "I'll speak with her. I'm sure she'll be lenient." It was a lie, but one that came naturally to my lips without remorse.

"Very well," Gaius expertly had a bandage around my foot in no time. It was small enough so that my shoe still fit over it.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"Ah—first visit, and only a bandage used! Nothing!" Gaius held out a hand cordially. I shook it gratefully and stood. "How can I thank you?"

"It pleases me to help, my dear," the physician replied, showing me to the door. I had a bitter nature, but I couldn't dislike this man. His kindness had no motivations and did not overstep its boundaries.

"See ya later!" called Merlin from the table.

"Goodbye," I said, giving him a small bow, leaving as quickly as I could.

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><p><strong>oooh, such a definite "close"! HOW CAN THIS STORY BE CONTINUED WITH SUCH A BORING CHAPTER ENDING? Well, let me tell you, all the excitement begins after this ;) So leave a review and let me know if I should continue =)<strong>


	4. Lady Deanna's Chambers, next morning

**Oh my goodness! Thank-you all for your lovely reviews! =)**

**Answers to reviewer questions and comments:**

**StarryNight359: Wren is a character I've made up- I think that's what 'oc' means? So yes, Wren is an OC =)**

**Bottled Sunshine: I know what you mean about people not knowing they are bitter. Though there are always those people who end a comment with, "It's not like I'm bitter or anything" when they know they very much are. Some people are more aware of their faults than they care to admit, but Wren admitting it to herself in her head is perhaps easier than admitting it out loud, I think =) Then there is always the simple matter that in first-person perspective, sometimes the characters _have _to think things in order for the reader to know ;) Thanks for your imput, still, keep it coming, I love critique! :)**

**happy reading =)**

**-Pip**

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><p>-Lady Deanna's Chambers, the next morning –<p>

"Would you like to explain a riddle to me, dear Wren?" Lady Deanna said kindly, sitting up in her bed with long hair fanned behind her, sipping water from a decorated goblet.

"Ah, you're awake already," I said, bowing at the door and shutting it behind me. "Indeed, milady. What can I do for you?"

"Here's my riddle," she said, pulling a piece of paper from her dresser and unrolling it. "Why—my dear, stupid girl—did I get a message from the court physician this morning—asking me to give you leave for the day in order to recover from a minor injury?"

I halted where I stood, hands frozen above her water station where I had begun to prepare her pitcher of water and a towel.

"I know not, milady," I stammered, "I seem to have a bruise, that is all. I do not know why the physician would do such a silly thing."

"Why does this letter," she rolled on, thrillingly, as if reciting a great poem. "Seem to imply that I have no choice in the matter? And that denying it would be an act of heartlessness—and worse—incompetence as a lady of the court?"

"How dare he write such implications," I faked the sound of indifference, but truthfully, I felt a sort of bravery that I had not felt before. Someone—for the first time in years—was showing some kind of concern for me. It felt almost unreal.

"And WHY," Lady Deanna continued behind me, eyes boring into my back as I set back to work at her basin. "does he threaten to discuss matters with the Prince of Camelot if I do not give you leave?"

I whirled around, finally facing her. "Oh," I gasped, all bravery flying through the window to a sudden death on the pavement of the courtyard below. "Why has he done something so extreme?" my voice trembled a little. I clutched the pitcher as if I could somehow transfer my worries to its china handle. "My lady, surely he was under some kind of strong drink. How stupid of him to threaten a lady such as yourself."

"Your words are insulting," Lady Deanna scoffed with a contemptuous smile. "You hate me as much as I hate you. I've just never spoken it out loud till today. You are a slow, lazy, mentally incompetent girl who looks like the snout of a Wilddeoren. I don't just want you to take a holiday today. I release you from my service, sweet, darling Wren."

"You're sacking me?" I shouted, angrily, before I could think about the consequences of raising my voice to her.

"I said _leave!_" she shrieked, flinging her goblet at me.

I stood in shock, unable to dodge it in time without dropping her pitcher. It hit me in the head with a solid, brassy sound, clattering to the stone floor loudly. I put a hand to my forehead instinctively and felt a tender place that was beginning to grow wet, but only looked to the Lady Deanna for some sign of change.

"Please," I said slowly, "How will I live… my work…"

"I believe I've let you go," Lady Deanna said cruelly. "Do not make me fetch the guards for the intruder in my bedchamber holding _my _pitcher."

I replaced the pitcher in the basin, and with a crooked, disoriented trudge; I left her chambers and slowly shut the doors behind me.

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><p><strong>read and review, dear readers :)<strong>


	5. Hall, same morning

**Happy readings my dears =)**

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><p>- Hall –<p>

"Ah, so we meet again."

_No, please, anyone but him._ I looked up at Merlin as he approached from the opposite end of the hall. He looked down at me, smile drifting away and soon replaced with a look of surprise and concern.

"Your head is bleeding," he said, horrified.

"The Lady Deanna is having a very trying morning," I said, stopping when we reached each other. "It is nothing I can't…do…" I trailed off, unable to complete my thought.

"She must have better aim than Arthur," without permission, Merlin gently took my chin and lifted it up, using the other to move some of my hair aside and look at where the blood came from.

"This looks pretty bad," he admitted, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Please don't," I said slowly, my mind commanding me to pull away and resume my determined limp, but my body not responding.

"But do you feel okay? Are you dizzy?"

"It's not feeling," I replied, in my imagination, with perfect logical sense. "And it only _looks _dizzy."

"Come back with me to Gaius's," he said kindly, looping his arm around me and drawing me down the hall and around the corner. "Can you tell me your name again?"

I didn't answer.

"What's your name?"

"Merlin," I said.

"No, that's my name."

"Merlin," I said with irritation. "I'm trying to ask you a question."

"Ask me later."

"I'm asking now."

"Are you?" Merlin seemed amused. "I haven't heard one yet."

My thoughts paused. This revelation befuddled me. "I haven't heard one?"

"_I _haven't, you're mixing us up," Merlin corrected, helping me up the small, curving staircase. "How old are you?"

"It's not my birthday," I scoffed. _How dare he ask so many personal questions? What language was he speaking in, anyway?_

"GAIUS," burst Merlin when he opened the door. "Problem!"

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><p><strong>A bit funnier than usual. I can look back on the time I faceplanted while walking down a road now, and laugh, and remember how 'strange and funny' everything seemed at the time. Hopefully this makes everyone chuckle as much as I did ;)<strong>


	6. Physician's Chamber, again

**Thank-you for your lovely reviews! Happy reading =)**

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><p>- The Physician's Chambers, again –<p>

"There, that feels better, doesn't it?"

Some minutes later, I was resting against flour sack pillows, enjoying the cold cloth on my forehead and begrudgingly telling Gaius that the Lady Deanna had thrown a heavy, brass, ornamented goblet into my head with a surprising strength.

"Keep the cloth there, and we'll re-wet it in just a few minutes so it will stay cold," Gaius smiled at me and patted my hand. "Light blow to the head, it shouldn't bother you by tomorrow."

"Thank-you," I said, embarrassed at all the fuss.

Merlin waltzed in from his bedroom, with an extra blanket. With a cheerful, "Got another!" he dumped it on top of me and straightened the edges so that I was fully blanketed from the waist down.

"Merlin," Gaius said, noticing my perturbed look, "Would you mind asking Arthur to excuse you for the morning? I'd like you to help me watch Wren while I go on my rounds."

"Sure!" Merlin left the room in a whirl.

"Where does he find all that energy?" I asked, trying not to sound envious.

"Ah, gift of the young. You'll find your energy back when you've recovered."

"I've never had _that _kind of energy," I sighed.

"Will the Lady Deanna miss you today? There is another council. Will you be expected?" Gaius asked, folding his hands neatly in his lap and raising an eyebrow at me.

"No," I said, too shortly.

Both eyebrows crept up in a disastrous look of suspicion.

"The Lady Deanna let me go," I admitted, bitterness overwhelming my voice. "She sacked me. No thanks to you."

"To me?" Gaius sat back in surprise.

"Yes, your letter did the trick," I snapped, "Causing a ruckus and upsetting her so. She was highly insulted. I paid the price for that. Your careless attempt at friendliness cost me my living."

"A letter," repeated Gaius, frowning.

"Do you not remember your own doing?"

"I sent no such letter. What did it contain?"

"It threatened to go to the Prince with her—um—abuse of me. It insinuated that she was an incompetent courtier. It was…" I failed to hear the first part of his statement. "You didn't send it?"

"I did not."

"She said it was from the court physician."

"Perhaps she meant my assistant?" Gaius said kindly, looking apologetic.

"It wasn't you!" I gasped. "It couldn't be—no—Merlin sent a letter to her? In your name? To try and keep me from getting in trouble? That fool! That stupid fool!"

"Calm yourself, my dear, please try to relax. Remember, your head…"

"Damn my head!" I cried. "Your ward has inadvertently made me _hate _him for his stupid, stupid kindness!" I let a few tears drip down my cheeks. "Why would he do that?"

"Merlin has many flaws," Gaius said with a gentle smile, "But by far, my favorite flaw is when he finds a creature in some kind of need. No matter who they are or what they are, if he sees injustice, he will not rest until that sufferer is safe, rescued, happy, or all. He is a great young man—helping people is something that comes by him naturally. Sometimes, it is thoughtless. But I'm certain he had no clue what the result of his forgery would bring. He would never purposefully hurt you."

I shook my head. "How can I thank him, when I hate him so?"

"_Why _do you hate him so?" Gaius asked, somewhat pained. He took one of my hands and held it loosely, patting it with a grandfatherly comfort.

"Everyone likes him," I spluttered, "He gets to do whatever he wants because his master is his friend, too. In a sad attempt to give me a day of rest, he got me sacked and homeless."

"Homeless?"

_Blast. I didn't want to admit that. _"My room is the annex off Lady Deanna's chambers. I shall no longer be allowed to live there, it is only for personal servants."

"Don't worry about that," Gaius declared, "I shall see to your chamber myself. You stay here for tonight, and perhaps tomorrow. And there will be a place for you to stay, I can promise you that."

"Why are you so kind to me?" I asked hazily. "I'm sorry for... falsely accusing you..."

"I am a physician, I would not be in this profession if I did not enjoy helping others."

Silence fell. I wiped my tears away and cursed myself for letting my guard down. Damn goblet and damn my sensitive head. Had I not been clobbered, I still might be wandering the castle, seeking a new position with my senses and dignity intact.

The door flew open with a bang. I twitched at the sound, and groaned annoyingly at the pounding in my skull.

"Got the rest of the afternoon off, and Arthur sends his well-wishes to the patient," Merlin beamed as he flew in, nearly tripping over a bucket and plopping heavily down on the bench by the table. "What'd I miss?"

"An interesting revelation," Gaius said sternly. "Merlin, may I have a private word with you, please?"

"Not on my account," I said quietly, "Please…" I didn't know why I felt the need to stop the conversation before it happened. It wasn't to protect Merlin from his own sacking, that is for certain.

Gaius handed me a fresh, cold cloth from the bucket of cold water. "Keep that in place. Try to rest. I will return in a few minutes, and I'll need to stitch that up."

I let my mind slide in a fog, wanting to eavesdrop their conversation, but wishing that I was anywhere but here more than anything. I began to take sides of an argument, looking at one response and another, debating my current predicament internally and despising the small signs of forgiveness that kept wandering in from a place deep inside of me that I had abandoned years ago.

_He was trying to do a kindness for you._

_His stupidity got me sacked._

_He wants to be your friend!_

_He's a FOOL. _

_Merlin is a genuine, kind human being._

_I have no place to go, no way to make money._

_Merlin can help._

_He's done enough damage already!_

"I'm sorry," said a quiet, tortured voice, sometime later.

Late afternoon sun streamed in the room. After I had finally been allowed to doze a little after Gaius stitched up the cut, under the influence of a sweet-tasting potion that put me out of danger from sleeping too soon, I rolled over to find a contrite Merlin at my bedside, waiting for me to awaken.

"You've been there all afternoon," I guessed.

"Yeah, just waiting, like Gaius asked."

"Was he very angry with you?"

"He's never truly angry with me. Only appalled," Merlin cracked a smile. "He's… he's like my father. He doesn't sweeten up the truth. When I've been stupid, he tells me, right off."

"I'm sorry if…"

"Don't worry about it… I should be apologizing to you."

I didn't answer.

"I'm really sorry," Merlin said, frowning. "I had no clue that my letter would bear the results it did. I was just trying to help you get the day off. And I thought if Lady Deanna knew that I'd complain to Arthur about the abuse of servants… then… maybe she'd take it easier on you."

"I would have thought the same," I agreed before I could stop myself.

Silence fell again, and I suspected Merlin awaited my forgiveness. I couldn't bear saying it—or anything—yet. I did not know where my future dwelled. I could be facing starvation in two weeks, living beneath the tourney bleachers and thinking blasphemous thoughts about finding a sorcerer to make me some food or some other idiocy.

"Thank-you," I managed, barely letting the words out.

"Yeah," Merlin said softly. "I hope we can still be friends."

I shook my head.

"Why not?" Merlin asked.

"I'm better off alone," I said crisply, and let the silence fall like a cloud over the sun with no rain, only bitter remorse brought with a chill of heartlessness.

"Because of my letter...?"

"Because of everything," I answered, looking away.

-Some time later –

"You know," I said over my bowl of warmed stew, "There's a possibility that a cleaning maid is needed. With all the… messes… about the castle. The clean-up process has been painfully slow, and the King has done little to aid the progress."

"The King is in a compromising position," Gaius said sadly. "He is devastated about Morgana."

Merlin sighed in his bowl, saying nothing.

"Tell me, do you have family?" Gaius asked, handing me some bread.

I dipped my bread in the soup and swirled it around, hesitating. "I had an aunt and uncle. When the Lady Morgana asked for the knights of Camelot to join her, and they refused, the other woman's—knights in black and red?"

"Morgause," Gaius said.

"Right. Her knights. The Lady Morgana commanded them to fire upon the civilians in the plaza. My aunt and uncle were among them."

"I am so sorry," Gaius said quietly.

"It's not your fault," I said, and feeling the mood darken, I tried to lighten it a little. "They brought me to Camelot, and I was soon working in the palace. When my first mistress died, I only stayed with them a very short while before beginning work for the Lady Deanna. I hardly knew them."

Merlin chewed his stew thoughtfully. "Maybe one of the knights could help."

"The knights?" I repeated, completely shocked. "The knights are—you know—noble. Why would they care about _me?_"

"It's what they do, they care for people," Merlin said, a little defensively.

"Merlin has a very limited view of class structure, and the separation between nobles and peasants," Gaius explained in a scolding way, but smiling as he said it. "It's both freeing and limiting."

"If I asked Lancelot to find a room for rent, he'd probably be up all night looking," Merlin said sheepishly.

"And Gwaine would help him," Gaius chuckled.

"Percival would be doing his own secret investigation of the whole town…" Merlin snickered.

"Sir Leon would find them all missing from their quarters and wonder if they'd all gone out drinking…"

"And Elyan would probably be covering for them," Merlin grinned.

I stared at them. "Are the Prince's closest knights all under your command as well as his?"

"We're all friends," Merlin said, as if that were obvious.

"No…!" I drawled in awe.

"Not kidding," Merlin replied.

"Strange," I said, but I felt it was much more than strange. It was awkward. It seemed wrong. Merlin would get himself killed like this, playing the game of social climbing in which he referred to knights and a prince as his 'mates'… sooner or later, he would displease one, and find his head being hewn from his shoulders—of that, I was sure.

How stupidly naïve of him… didn't Gaius, a world-weary man who'd lived through the Great Purge and the wars against magic—wouldn't _he _help Merlin understand real life? Gaius, I'm certain, knows he cannot be friends with King Uther. He merely serves him. Merlin's fantasy world in which he plays best friend to anyone higher than himself will almost certainly lead to something dreadful.

"You're a million miles away," commented Merlin.

"I'm tired," I lied. "I think I'll go to sleep, and look for work in the morning."

Gaius stood hospitably and took away my dish. "Let me check your bandage?"

"Yes, thank-you," I said, training my eyes on the distant woodwork of the front door. Gaius deftly unwrapped the makeshift band that he'd created to cover up the gash, and gave a nod of approval. "Stitches clean and holding together nicely."

"Mhm," I mumbled, eyes roaming the pattern, a defense mechanism when I felt the most awkward. "That's… good." I caught eyes with Merlin and looked away quickly. He seemed to deliberately sit in my line of vision.

"Sleep well, Miss Wren," Gaius replaced the band and folded his hands, looking pleased. "Do not hesitate to ask me for anything in the night. And forgive us for a few noises—Merlin and I are going to sweep up and clean the dishes before we turn in."

"I'm a pretty heavy sleeper," I admitted, "Yet another reason why I wasn't the best of servants to have for a morning wake-up call. You two could probably stay up till the bells chime thrice playing a game of chance cards, and I wouldn't know."

Gaius laughed. "Well, goodnight, anyhow."

"Sleep well," Merlin added, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

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><p><strong>Review my friends! =) God bless! Let me know if I should continue!<strong>


	7. Lower Town

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><p>Lower Town –<p>

It was going on six chimes in the morning when I walked through the roads and alleys of the lower town in Camelot, beyond the castle walls.

I stopped at a few establishments—the blacksmith's, the butcher, the apothecary, the florist, the market stalls selling foodstuffs and baskets. None had work, and this only added to my despair.

That morning, I slipped out before the physician and his assistant were awake. I began to meander the castle, asking a few people here and there if they knew about work. Word spreads quickly, I suppose, because no one met me with any sort of surprise. They all knew I was sacked.

The kitchens didn't need anyone. No courtier was in need of a personal servant. There were too many maids as it were. A messenger was unnecessary. A server or a stable-girl weren't needed either.

So I proceeded out of the castle doors, feeling uncomfortable with returning to the lower status. I could easily fit in among them, but I was accustom to the privileges of a servant within the palace. I worried, understandably, about what kinds of options awaited me among the common-folk, who had all been raised with skills that I did not possess.

The last place on my list was a tavern.

- The Rising Sun -

I ducked inside the dim door, glad that the room was nearly—almost, but not quite—empty.

"May I speak to the owner, please?" I said timidly at the counter, ignoring the stares from a few men scattered about the quiet room, where people were only just beginning to check out from the inn upstairs and order breakfast.

"Yer lookin' at 'im," said the man behind the counter, hands working a rag over a pint, drying it, and placing it on the shelf behind him. "What can I do fer ya?"

"I'm looking for work," I said, my voice shaking a little.

"Yer not in trouble with the royals er nothin, are ya?" asked the man, indicating the bandage on my head. "Yer dressed too nicely to be a farmer's daughter. You from the palace, yeah?"

"Yes," I said, touching my head. "This was nothing, a mere accident. My position in the palace as drawn to an end, I am not in trouble with anyone."

"You don't think, uh," the man gestured again awkwardly. "This ain't a brothel or anythin."

I smiled at him. "You run a much nicer establishment than that. I understand. It's not like we're under the rule of Cenred—we have _some _morals here, don't you think?"

"I suppose so… but…"

"Say I begin working for you," I added, "I can live in the inn upstairs. Give you assistance. Pour and make drinks. Give some of the men an ear if they need someone to talk to. If you fancy yourself to be one of those types of taverns, I could sing too."

"I've never thought of hiring a barmaid before," the man said thoughtfully. "And your name was?"

"Wren," I said, smiling at him.

"Wren?" he repeated, suddenly beaming. "Wren! Really! I knew yer uncle, I did, God rest 'im. Where've you been?"

"Working in the palace, haven't been back…"

"Right, right, ya said that. Blimey. You're all grown up. It'd be cruel to the fates if I denied ya, knowin' yer uncle, an' all." He reached over to the shelf behind him, pulled two glasses down, and filled them with something from a pitcher.

He handed one to me, and raised his glass. "Yer hired," he chuckled amiably. "Here's to hiring obscure friend's nieces under very short notice!"

Astonished, I held up my glass. "Here here," I said, breaking into a smile.

The liquid in the glass was only water.

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><p><strong>Here's a little sneak peak of who is to appear in the next chapter... <strong>

**((hair swoop))**

**guess who?**

**Review! =) Let me know if I should continue!**


	8. 2 Weeks Later

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><p>2 weeks later –<p>

The side of the mug shone as I polished, and eventually the hardened clay sucked all the water in, and no one could ever tell I'd cleaned it. I replaed it on the shelf and retrieved a second from the counter, throwing my rag over it and stuffing my fist inside, grinding the clothe into the recesses and wiping away what was left of the previous drink.

"Lady, give me the hardest drink you have," said a light-hearted voice. I looked up and was surprised to find one of the knights of Camelot—one of the new ones that Prince Arthur knighted in the crises of Lady Morgana's takeover.

His grin was eminent, and his cheerfulness catchable. "Ale," I smiled at him, removing the previously-cleaned mug from the shelf and pouring from the pitcher. "Hoping to have a forgetful night?" I asked, leaning over the counter.

He was a handsome one, I'll give him that, though he could use trimming. The hair swept off to one side like cloak, and his brown eyes glittered in a heavily bearded face.

"Forgetful?" he questioned, his smile never ceasing.

"Drink enough of that, Sir, and you won't remember a thing tomorrow," I explained.

"But what if I don't want to forget your face?" he flirted, grinning behind his mug. He took a short gulp. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Forget it you will, Sir, with many things to do," I said, hiding a smile as I began to wipe down the counter.

"Don't call me Sir," said the knight, with a little frown. "I may be a knight but I'm not… noble. Just doesn't seem to fit all that well."

"Then what should I call you?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Gwaine," he said, taking another swig. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll be brave enough to ask for your name."

"It's Wren," I replied, forgetting my rag and smeared counter for a moment. "A few more minutes and you might forget we were talking."

Gwaine nodded at me approvingly. "I like you. How long have you been here?"

"A few weeks."

"Ah, here I am, trying to be a good knight by avoiding strong drinks except for a little wine at the banquets. But now I'm wondering what good there was in that, if I didn't have the chance to speak to you before."

"You flatter me," I said, chuckling. "I would say that your self-control is admirable, all things considered."

"All things considered…?" he asked, grinning again.

"Among the common folk, we have our rumors," I came a bit closer, wiping the counter around where his hand rested. "Sir Leon, the oldest knight, the one who served by Uther's side in the Great Purge. Sir Percival, the silent one with a deep grudge against the Lady Morgana; Sir Lancelot, pure and true; Sir Elyan, the loyalist; Sir Gwaine…"

"What do they say about me?" Gwaine asked, eyes twinkling.

"The fearless one," I finished, refilling his mug. "Fearless in battles—and in taverns."

He laughed heartily and accepted the returned mug. "Highly accurate rumors you've heard."

"Well, I try not to listen to idle gossip."

Gwaine sipped again and looked at me closely. "So—Wren—I don't suppose you've heard any other 'accurate rumors' about the Lady Morgana's location, have you?"

I leveled my gaze at him and paused over the pitcher that I was about to return to the box of ice in the bark shavings. "If only I had—I might return to work in the palace if I were _that _good at eavesdropping."

Gwaine waved his hand. "I know you hadn't—but I had to ask. _Anything _to keep us from going on _another _patrol tomorrow to search for her hideout. I'm quite sick of donning the red cape to look for a woman whom—I'm certain—has fled far from here with that twisted sister of hers."

"You leave tomorrow, then?"

"Aye," another gulp, "Tomorrow morning."

"And you wish to begin the trip with a horrible headache?"

"I hope to be so incredibly inebriated that I'll be too ill to go."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm not—but I am, admittedly, trying to drink away a bit of the stress that I feel the night before another useless (though usually life-threatening) patrol."

I slowly took the mug out of his hand, and to my surprise, he did not protest. I dumped the remains of the mug in one of the basins, and began to refill it with a wine made from lush vineyards in the southernmost point of Camelot's borders.

"What's that?" Gwaine asked suspiciously.

"This, my friend, is something relaxing," I handed it across, and he swirled it around, looking doubtful at the small amount I had poured for him. "I don't want to see you hurt yourself or disappoint your friends. Just a little of this and you'll sleep well. None of this patrol-apprehension."

Gwaine sipped it cautiously. "Isn't bad."

"I might be a bar maid, but I'd never like to say I made a drunk out of anyone."

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"There's room for improvement, Sir."

"Please, just Gwaine."

"Alright—Gwaine."

"Alright," he said mischievously, "_Wren."_

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><p><em><strong><strong>_**Part II of their conversation is soon to come =) Review and let me know if I should continue!**


	9. Three Hours Later

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><p>3 hours later –<p>

"Let me get this straight," Gwaine's words slurred ever so slightly, but not enough to be of any real danger to his dignity. "You don't like Merlin because… he's popular?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," I said, now entirely relaxed and sitting on my own stool behind the counter—all the chores being finished, and Gwaine being the last customer left in the tavern on the weekday evening. "Everyone acts as if he is so _perfect. _But I know first-hand that he has many faults. Such blind admiration simply bothers me, is all."

"It isn't not blind admiration," Gwaine protested, "Admiration isn't only for the perfect—but for the flawed as well. Look at me, for example. I'm a wayward rogue and our Prince has knighted me. What does that tell you?"

I sighed. "He looked past your faults."

"Exactly."

"But Merlin—"

"But nothing," Gwaine declared. "I'll kick myself, Wren, on the morrow for speaking to you so familiarity—you being a lady, and me representing our kingdom's monarch—but I'm tipsy so I say to hell with manners for now."

"Say what you want. I'm a barmaid, I've heard worse from lesser men."

"I just wanted to say—give Merlin a chance. For god's sake, be _kind _to him. You'd be surprised how much kindness will reciprocate kindness in return."

"You're right," I said begrudgingly after a moment's pause. "But…"

"Be _nice _to him."

"How can I forgive him?" I asked quietly.

"You don't have to forgive him yet. Sometimes forgiveness is overrated."

I laughed heartily.

"I didn't mean that," Gwaine looked confused by his own words. "What I meant it, forgiveness is more difficult when there is so much loathing involved. Sometimes you have to learn to _not _hate someone—then forgiveness will just, sort of, _happen, _on it's own."

I chuckled, and smiled at his bleary eyes. "Have you ever thought of becoming a priest, Gwaine?"

"I don't have the stomach for it," grinned Gwaine amiably. "But consider this. You've every reason to dislike Merlin for getting you sacked accidentally. My only question is—what right have you to dislike him before this occurred? In another world, would you like him?

"Like him?" the thought seemed a little foreign. I tried to remember how grateful I felt when he apologized, or the way he tried to make sure I had enough blankets. But the rest of the feelings came flooding back—ones I couldn't identify.

"You know when you hate someone," I said, "And the genesis for the hate is unidentifiable, suddenly the person walking—breathing—or speaking—just seems as annoying as if it were a dreaded enemy?"

"Aye, sure, I suppose."

"That's Merlin," I replied. "Just the _way _he gets to speak to everyone as if they are all such good friends. He can talk to the future king, and the lowliest servant, and be on equal terms. Yet he shirks his chores and… well… that doesn't matter I suppose, but I guess I wish someone _else _would notice he doesn't wear a halo, that's all."

"You're jealous," Gwaine declared.

"No!" I said hotly.

"Oh, but you ARE!" Gwaine continued, leaning forward. "I can see it. You might never admit it. But your life hasn't really worked out for you—but it seems to you that Merlin's _has. _You wish you could have what he has."

I clamped my mouth shut tightly. _He doesn't understand. _

"I'll challenge you to think about something," Gwaine added, "Try to imagine that _nothing _has ever worked out for Merlin—he just hides it really well."

"_Right._"

"Try it."

"Very well," I sighed. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, looking around the empty tavern with a deep sigh. "You know how to make a lady feel guilty, Sir Gwaine."

"Please, just, Gwaine," Gwaine huffed. "I hope you'll be able to find a way to come to terms with just how _much _everyone appreciates Merlin. Get to know him, and you'll see him as I do."

"And how do you see him?" I asked.

"Well, he's my friend, for one thing," Gwaine gently slid his empty wine glass across the counter towards me. "Even if he weren't, he's still a hero."

"A hero?" I asked, rather dubiously.

"I happen to know a little secret about Merlin," Gwaine whispered. "He may act like a clumsy oaf, but he's got more guts than half the men I know. He's saved Arthur's life on a thousand occasions—at least Lance has said as much, it was before I came here. Lance too—though Merlin asked him not to tell anyone. Too modest I suppose."

"Merlin…? Saving lives?"

"Come to think of it, I don't know how he does it," joked Gwaine, "He's nothing but a stick."

"He could do with some meat on his bones," I said offhandedly, taking the wine glass and putting it in the basin of sudsy water. "I hope you don't think any less of me for my… opinions…"

"Impossible," Gwaine grinned. "In fact, I like you that much better. No one is perfect."

"Now you're just looking past _my _flaws," I smiled, feeling a warmth creeping through my face.

"Isn't that what friends do?" Gwaine chuckled, then he sobered. "Hm—too soon? You're blushing."

"It's warm in here, that's all," I said, looking away quickly.

"Sure it is," Gwaine laughed and stretched. "You know—I actually _do _think I could do with a bit of sleep. My limbs feel loose."

"I told you it'd be relaxing."

"So you did," Gwaine eased on his bar stool, wincing at a crack in his back. He creaked his neck to one side till he heard a satisfying pop. "My bones are rattling like an old man nowadays. I'll probably fall to pieces during the patrol."

"Be careful," I said lightly.

Gwaine smiled. "Will you worry about me?"

"I'll just worry for your enemies," I responded.

"I urge you to worry very little, till I return," Gwaine pulled a very small pouch from his vest-pocket, removed some money, and then held out his hand rather than placing them on the counter.

I held out my hand, and he placed the money in my palm, and then—rather sensuously, I might add—closed my fingers around it.

"Usually I'd like to give a pretty girl a flower," Gwaine winked, "But I think paying my dues will have to suffice this once."

"I'll look forward to the flower," I chuckled, pulling my hand gently away and keeping my fist closed around the payment.

Gwaine bowed and went through the door, and I added the money to the small locked chest beneath the counter.

The bells in the tower chimed twice, two hours after midnight. I yawned wearily and went to my room in the inn upstairs, and through the window, could see the small figure of Gwaine walking with a slow, purposeful stride back to the city gates, illuminated by the moonlight.

I remembered his advice—request, really—and wondered _how _Gwaine expected me, exactly, to even _have _an opportunity to spend time with Merlin.

_I'm here, and he's there. _I looked up at the palace, and realized I did not really miss it anymore.

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><p><strong>I don't know if anything super-romantic will come out of Gwaine and Wren's relationship... I like the chemistry unexpectedly happening between the characters, but what do you guys think? Friends? More than friends?<strong>

**Review and let me know if I should continue =)**

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	10. The Palace

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><p>- Market –<p>

"Um, the—apples, please—twelve would be fine. Thank-you." I handed the merchant a few coppers, and balanced my basket on the edge of the booth counter while the merchant smiled, commented about the weather, and filled my basket with fresh autumn-colored apples. Their sweet perfume lingered around this man's fresh fruit cart, and drew many a customer to it.

"Any special occasion? That's a lot of apples for so small a lady," quipped the merchant, adding the last and patting the top of the basket.

"I'm going to try and make a pie, for the court physician," I smiled. "It's been a few weeks now since he's had to stitch up my head, and I've yet to repay his kindness."

"Aren't you just the sweetest patient he's ever had," chuckled the merchant, tipping his threadbare cap and focusing on another approaching customer.

_I'm not sweet, _I thought as I turned away, _I'm horrid. _

- The Rising Sun kitchen –

"No!" I screamed, throwing the pan down to the floor. It fell down very anticlimactically with a loud _clunk, _the pie completely solid inside, burnt to a crisp apple-flavored rock. "No! May all the curses be upon you!"

I kicked the pan, and slumped down beside it, dejected. "May every evil be upon you and your father's house. I hope a sorcerer gets you. I bet all the apples had worms. And evil. And…" I trailed off, looking around to make sure no one had heard. I couldn't afford being mistaken for a witch or some other stupidity.

"…And I hope you die in apple-pie agony," I whispered venomously, finally jumping to my feet, dumping the bulbous charred creature into the alley through the back entrance, and slumped back to my regular work.

- The Palace Courtyard-

There was a mild tone of worry in the air, and I wondered why—in the middle of the busy day—many people working steadily in the lower town were dropping their task and trotting towards the palace doors, speaking in whispers and gossip.

My master and bar owner, Evoric, had finally succumbed to curiosity and bade me to follow and find out what had happened. The alarm bells had not been rung, but clearly word had spread about _something. _

"Excuse me, Sir, what is going on?" I asked, various crowd members pushing past me towards the palace doors.

Sir Leon, a strikingly tall man, looked at me curiously, as if he had recognized me from living in the palace before. He checked about for eavesdroppers, and leaned down towards me, whispering; "The King has collapsed—best not worry anyone just yet. I don't suppose—could you help me?"

"Help you?" I repeated. "Certainly—yes! What shall I do?"

"We've our hands full, here, would you mind finding the physician's assistant? Gaius's boy—know him?"

"Yes," I said briskly, "He's missing?"

"He's back in the physician's chambers—Gaius is with the King."

"I'll fetch him straight away." I bowed.

"Thank-you, madam," Sir Leon said with the upmost respect. His attention immediately snapped to the doors, where townsfolk were attempting to talk their way past the door guards. "Excuse me, excuse me," he began to go up the stairs, "Ladies and gentlemen—please—it's a mere case of exhaustion, no need to overreact. Continue about your business, the King is just fine. Do not be alarmed."

"Exhaustion? Fallin' over in the middle of a court address?" said one woman. "Sounds like 'is heart gave out, it did!"

"Nay, twasn't a court address, in the middle of a great feast—choked on some bones," said an older man.

"Nonsense!" said another.

I tuned them out, running for the other side of the courtyard. My shoes slapped the cobblestones in a peculiar rhythm as I entered the overhang, ducking up the curved stairs that disappeared within the interior of the palace. I followed the unnecessary, charming little sign pointing upwards and labeled _Court Physician_.

-The Physician's Chambers –

"Hello?" I called, opening the door. "Merlin?"

Gaius's chambers were lit by sunlight, glinting off every bottle and root across tables and shelves, the bright glass a contrast to every dark-paged book that lay in hazardous messes over the floor and tables.

"Merlin?" I said louder, walking slowly in and shutting the door behind me.

The door at the far end of the room suddenly opened, and Merlin came trumping down three steps into the main room. His face was surprised. "Wren!" he greeted, approaching as he adjusted a worn satchel around his shoulder. "What can I do for you?"

"Gaius needs you," I said. "The King has collapsed—they're in his bed chambers." I turned and led Merlin out of the room, and with a startled gasp, he followed quickly.

- the Hall -

"Is that all you know?" he asked, face serious.

"It is. I just happened to be nearby, so Sir Leon sent me to fetch you."

"Thank-you," he said, a little breathless. "It was good of you to help. Really."

"Um," I said, squinting, recalling Gwaine's words. "You're welcome…"

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Merlin chuckled tightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Accepting a compliment. You'll be better at it someday," teased Merlin.

I didn't know what to say. Naturally I chose to do a most socially unacceptable thing, and let out a very forced, small laugh at his teasing. When it failed to fool him, I bit my lip and fell into silence again.

"It's been awhile," Merlin ventured again. "You disappeared that morning… I looked for you everywhere."

"I found work," I said shortly, ashamed to admit to him I was working in the tavern.

"That's great!" Merlin exclaimed loudly, smiling. "I knew you would!"

I said nothing. My mind struggled to reply, but I felt so awkward, there was still nothing.

"Maybe now we can be…" Merlin's thought faded, and he didn't finish his sentence.

"Maybe not," I said quickly, knowing he was going to suggest a friendship. "It's even less possible than before. I don't know if your Prince would appreciate you associating with the likes of me. As his manservant, you do have a bit of a reputation to uphold."

"And you don't? What kind of work did you find, exactly?"

I sighed. _Might as well. _"…Barmaid…"

"So you're the one Gwaine was going on about!" Merlin cried, another laugh escaping his lips. "I should have guessed! He thought you were quite charming, you know. He thinks you're doing well."

"He exaggerates."

"I think, personally," Merlin said quietly, "If a knight of Camelot can be friends with a barmaid, a lowly manservant can be friends with her, too."

"Oh," I winced.

"Are you really so concerned about our statuses?"

"No, no, I'm not. It's not that," _Conversational suicide. _"It's you."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"Don't make me explain this, Merlin, please. There are other things to worry about. In fact—you should go on to the King's chambers alone, I don't even know why I'm still walking this direction. I should go back to the tavern."

"Why don't you answer my question?"

"Merlin—there are a lot of things…" I began, then backtracked, and then began again. _All or nothing. This idiotic game has gone on long enough. _"Merlin—I have a hard time liking you. A very hard time. I can hardly speak to you without feeling angry. And I'm sorry. I think I really mean that."

"But why? Have I done something to offend you?"

"It makes my stomach ill to see you floating on this prosperous cloud—friends in both the highest and lowest places. Living in the palace. Eating food on a regular basis. Best friends with the Prince himself. It's like nothing—_nothing_—has been denied you, while, I've been granted nothing—till this job. I can try my hardest and possibly succeed in making a good man drunk. Gwaine tells me you've saved lives—that you're a hero."

"But…"

"Furthermore, you're not that good of a servant," I said hotly, too forward to stop now. "But you hold the admiration of everyone I know, and even those I don't know. Can you do nothing wrong? I'm sure you're just as human as the rest of us."

"I do things wrong all the time," Merlin said, a little shyly.

"Yet you receive applause," I spun my story wider, becoming carried away. "It just seems that anything I've ever done is equal to that of what you've accomplished, as a servant—but I was scoffed at, beaten to a point. Looked down upon. The comparison disgusts me."

"So now, I disgust you," Merlin inferred, sighing.

"No," I said quickly, "I mean—yes. I mean no. I don't know what I mean."

"Life handed you a platter of stale bread and poison water, but you look at mine, and it looks like steak and clove-stuffed potatoes," Merlin gave me a half-smile, with a pained, sorrowful look about his face. I hadn't even realized we had stopped walking—but we had, and I stared down at the floor, granting hesitant glances upwards, and Merlin looked at me with something akin to pity.

"Sure, sure, metaphorically speaking," I shrugged, unable to hold eye-contact for long, ashamed of myself for not doing better with Gwaine's advice. In fact, I had gone much too far. Merlin could ask the Prince to have me flogged if he wanted to.

"Let me tell you something, Wren," Merlin said softly, "My platter is as poor as yours, if not worse, sometimes it's better, but sometimes it is not. We are not what we are given, only what we choose to do with it. Working at a tavern doesn't make you less of a person—just as being a rubbish servant in high places makes me somehow better or lesser. I don't look at you and see 'barmaid'. I look at you and see someone talented, but I think you hold back because you don't want to be hurt. If you took more than a second look at me, you might see that I'm complicated person who has to work really—really—hard for anything to go well. Most of the time it doesn't, but I still try. In a way, we're similar. I think that's reason enough to be friends. And who knows that I've tried—I've tried to be your friend, Wren. I know you need one."

"I don't need anyone," I said stoically, drained of all emotion—unable to truly comprehend just how vulnerable Merlin appeared to be at this moment.

"Sure you do," Merlin whispered. "Everyone does. Don't forget that. But I hope that you will remember it before bitterness and jealousy overcomes you. It's not who you are. I'm sure you'd _like _to be made of stone, because nothing can hurt you if you're made out of stone. But it's a terrible way to live. Let people in. Make friends. Don't hide beneath this armor you've got, it'll get awfully lonely."

"Goodbye Merlin," I said quickly, spinning on heel and walking away.

"Goodbye Wren," Merlin called, likewise spinning, and soon headed towards the King's chambers.

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><p><strong>Please review, let me know if I should continue :)<strong>


	11. The Rising Sun

**Thank-you for all your wonderful reviews! I hope you all had a great Christmas :)**

**Happy new year to all! **

**-Pip**

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><p><strong>Note: I am trying to return to my initial preference of shorter chapters, in order to post more often with less pressure. School is starting up again, and I can already see that it will take it's toll on fanfiction time. <strong>

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><p>-The Rising Sun-<p>

Word of the King's collapse spread like wildfire. It wasn't long before Prince Arthur assumed command in the wake of his father's mental and physical deterioration.

"Somethin' like this has been expected, ya know," Evoric said one evening. "No one expected the King to survive Morgana's attack, an' when he did, it was clear that it had taken a toll on 'im."

"I wonder how the Prince is doing, that cannot be easy," I mused.

"Maybe some apple pie will make 'im feel better," Evoric said, with a polite cough.

"No!" I squeaked. "Oh dear."

"I found the sorry burnt thing by the back door."

"It's horrid, isn't it?" I said drearily.

"You spent most of yer wages, didn't ya?"

"I did," I said, guiltily.

Evoric laughed. "I guess you'll be eating supper with me till next week then."

I frowned. "Or not."

He raised his feathery eyebrows at me. "Why not?"

"You mean," I stuttered, "You aren't joking?"

"Not at all! Why would I joke 'bout that? Can't 'ave my barmaid starvin' for a week, now, can I?"

"You're actually inviting me to eat with you till my next pay?"

"'Course I am! I'd jus' pay ya early, if this wasn't a customer-based income! Since I can't, I'll jus' have ya over for dinner, you can meet my wife. She's a cook o'er in the palace, ya know."

"I don't know what to say," I stuttered.

"Say yes!"

"Yes?"

"That's the spirit!" Evoric smiled.

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><p><strong>Coming next: stew and an interesting metaphor.<strong>


	12. Evoric's Home

**Dear readers, **

**I know these are filler chapters, but things will pick up again in the next few =)**

**Love to all,**

**Pip**

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><p>-Evoric's home, a few days later –<p>

"Fancy any of the lads that come in for ale?" Evoric's wife asked.

The busty woman, with a chinless smile and the heartiest laugh in Camelot, spooned me _another _helping of stew, and ignored my polite wave-off. "There are some handsome ones, I reckon?"

I chewed a mouthful of stew and swallowed uncomfortably. "I do not think any customers have come to my particular attention."

"Ah, lies," Evoric joked, "That Sir Gwaine comes in oft' enough, sometimes not even drinkin'."

"I might be mistaken," I corrected quietly, "But I believe Sir Gwaine and I are just good friends."

"Hm, I wonder why that be?" Evoric mused.

"Ha! You're right to not set your cap at him," his wife added, "Sir Gwaine and that tall, lunkhead friend of his are menaces in my kitchen—always stealing scraps and such. It's like having small children about."

I chuckled. "I couldn't possibly fall for a thief of the royal kitchens."

"Good lass," she laughed, beaming. "But bein' friend with him… that's not all bad, is it, Evoric?"

"'Course it ain't," laughed Evoric, reaching over and brushing his hand against her cheek. "Bein' friends is how we got to be so happy, innit, love?"

"That's right, it is," returned his wife. "Mark me, Wren. Keep your friends closer than yer own heart. These are dark times we live in; we're _barely _hanging on in this 'peaceful reign', like the way a tiny flame clings to the wick of a candle. And you'll want a hand t'hold when the light is snuffed out."

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><p><strong>what do you think? Leave me a review and let me know =)<strong>


	13. High Noon

- High Noon -

Evoric was breathless. "Don't take this th' wrong way."

"Take what?" I asked, a flutter of nervousness in my heart.

"I found ya… another job."

I blinked. "You don't want me anymore?"

"It's not that I don't wantchya working here. I don't, you're the best thing to 'appen to my tavern. The men that come 'ere actually try to behave themselves with ya around."

"Then why do you want me to leave?"

"I don't, that's th' thing. But I've got a greater responsibility 'ere… I knew yer uncle, see, long time ago, and I've given ya a hand, but I couldn't look 'em in the eyes and say; 'I keep your sisters daughter workin' as a barmaid'."

"You feel guilty because I work here?"

"A little."

"But it's a fine establishment. It's an inn as well as a tavern. It's reputable."

"But yer serving hard drinks! And that's bad enough!"

"There's nothing _wrong _with them," I protested.

"Don't be silly, Wren. It's my living but it's certainly more complicated than right an' wrong."

"I don't have to go, Evoric. I don't want to leave. It's almost like a home."

"Ya been here for two months now."

"Yes."

"It's time that you've got somethin' more stable, and well-off," Evoric said. "I've pulled a few strings with the Mrs. She has got you a place in the palace. A little room, mind ya. And you'll be working in the kitchen maid. Not a servant for some soft 'anded lady, or cooking—something right 'n between. Good hours. Good wages. You'll live in comfort again."

"I don't miss comforts! I like it here."

"But it ain't good for ya. It's no place to… to grow up, Wren. Within the castle walls, you'll be safe…"

"Safe?"

"Times are strange, Wren. The King hasn't been seen in public since his collapse. Arthur rules. Whispers in the market say that his bastard daughter has been seen round these parts, and she's certainly one for revenge. There's a change in the air—it's a foul wind that bodes evil, y' know."

"That sounds superstitious."

"Maybe it is. I trust my instinct. My instinct says to stop hangin' on to yer service because it's good for business. My instinct says to find you a safer place to go. In this case, workin' in the palace again."

I was silent. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears.

I couldn't remember the last time I cried.

"I'm sorry to let you go," Evoric was tearful enough for the both of us.

"You're sacking me," I said, harder than I intended.

"Sacking you because I care 'bout ya," he snapped. "God, you are a hard one to love! But your little spitfire personality won me, and my wife, right over. We've decided to do something for you."

Then he opened up his arms, and I tentatively stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around me and embraced me tenderly.

"Ya know I never had children," Evoric said quietly. "We can't, you know. Seems like all the pretty things… all the little things… that I've ever wanted to give to a child, they've all built up, see. All those times I wanted to do what a parent does; they've gone into a little vault, never to be used. The wife and I felt like this was the time to open up the vault."

He pulled back. "Let us."

"Alright, alright," I took a deep breath. "I can't even put what I feel into words. I feel grateful. I don't understand though. I want to stay here and work. I love it. But I can't deny you this. If you both want me to go…"

"It's a choice between selfishly keeping you here as charity, or opening a door for your better opportunity."

I smiled sadly. "You… you would have made an amazing father."

"Well," Evoric shuffled heavily behind the counter, and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. "You give this palace job a fighting chance, and we'll see."

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><p><strong>Wren is going back to the palace! Two months later, and she has grown close with Evoric and his wife… possibly taking Merlin's advice. Now it's time for some new developments. Please review =)<strong>

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><p><strong>KrisEleven- <strong>

**Wow! Lots of reviews from you! Thank-you so very much! I am glad you've enjoyed the last few chapters. I am going to answer a few of your questions and concerns from the earlier ones…**

**Head trauma note: Yes, it is quite overdone, isn't it? My guilty admission is, of course, that I am borrowing events from my freshman year of college a very long four years ago. The head injury bit was, I thought, actually quite humorous and would bring comic relief to the story, rather than be a ploy to make the OC receive male attention, but with a male physician and a male physician's assistant, it's almost impossible to avoid. But I also understand the annoyance of the OC "woe is me I'm hurt cure me" trend, which is why I wrote Wren to leave and fend for herself as soon as possible, rather than lay around in Gaius's chamber. **

**Throwing the cup- well, considering what goblets were like in medieval times, it is fairly normal for one to be very heavy and decorated. And it wasn't a bad injury really, head wounds bleed very easily and can bleed **_**forever **_**even if it's just a tiny scratch. Don't fret, I didn't some webMD research before I wrote, hehe =) **

**Deanna's attitude - I've been reading Game of Thrones a lot, and it has certainly influenced me… I've been making the royalty just unbearably stuffy, cruel, and heartless, which I feel was probably closer to what a lot of courtiers were like back then. When you're rich and lazy from your birth onward, I can't imagine she has much sympathy for anyone but herself. **

**Hope this clears up a few of my clichés =)**

**Thanks so much for reading! I hope the fact that this single reply is ALL for you doesn't scare you away ;)**

**Pippin**


	14. Bed Chamber

**Dear Reviewers,**

**I am sorry it has taken me so long to update! Crazy thing about university, though, is that final exams don't like to share their takers with anyone else. Good news, though! I have graduated, with a degree in Writing and Literature! I'm all done and I hope to dedicate more time to fan fiction now that I'm finished :)**

**Thank-you for your patience, there are personal replies below. **

**Love much,**

**Pip**

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><p><strong>Ruby890: <strong>Thank-you! I'm excited for the palace again, too.

**Bottled Sunshine: **Oh, there will be much banter to come. Possibly drunk banter. Muahaha.

**April29Roses: **That is the most FLATTERING compliment! Thank-you! You're wonderful.

**Manet: **Oh my gosh, thank-you! That is way too kind of you.

**Alaia Skyhawk: **I love your penname. Thanks for reading :)

**Magpie of Silver: **I am SO glad that you like my story! Enjoy!

**StarryNight359: **Aw, thanks, I was afraid it was over the top. I appreciate your feedback!

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><p>-Bed Chamber-<p>

"Thes'll beh y'r roowm," the head cook's heavy brogue had to be mentally translated as she showed me my quarters, a tiny bedroom down the hall that branched off the palace kitchens. "Y'r gona shere witch Mess Th'ie," she continued, looking around the small space with a dry, uninterested expression. "An' I don' beh wantin' an' complints ef ye got problems witch 'er. I don' care for 'em. An' ya start en th' mornin'."

"Thank-you," I said, placing my sack on the bed.

"I suppose I don' need t' explin t' ya, that I don' put up witch any nonsense of any sourt, I like m' kitchen meds t' beh punc'tual an' fest."

"Punctual and fast," I repeated, nodding. "Of course."

"Ye tek or'drs frome meh an' no-boty else," she added, opening the small, wooden door and stepping sideways in order to fit through it. "An' oft' th' othur cooks stert tellin' ye what t'do, an' I'll BATEM SO MOCHE THEY'LL FELLICK CABERS'R DROP'D ENEM ALLNIT!"

I took a moment. "So I'm to inform you if I'm given an order by another cook and not by yourself?"

"AYE, ORIT'LL BEH CABERS! ON TH'R HADS!"

I nodded, numbly. "Yes?"

"Tha's Yes'm, t' you, an' jes cos I knowe Evrick, you arn't git'n no special fav'rs. I don' treat non' of 'em maids lik bairns."

"Yes, ma'am."

Breathing heavily, she left.

"Goodness!" said a voice, in the cupboard. I whirled around, and the cupboard opened. A slender girl, red-headed and freckled, fell out onto the floor and stood up with a flourish. "I always hide in the cupboard when I hear her coming," she said quickly, with the same accent, but much gentler. The only thing that they had in common was the heavily pronounced R and vowels.

"Uh—that's funny," I laughed awkwardly.

"I'm Thea, I'm one of the cooks," she introduced herself, with a half curtsy.

"Wren," I replied, my curtsy even less satisfactory.

"Did you understand her much?"

"Hardly a word."

"Here are the basics," Thea repeated, "Don't take directions from the other cooks, otherwise she'll beat them till they feel like cabers have been dropped on their heads."

"Oh, _cabers… _like logs?"

"Logs, exactly. And she isn't going to treat you special or like a baby."

I glanced at the door where our mistress had squeezed through. "I can't imagine her treating _anyone _lightly."

"She's all talk," Thea sighed, sitting on her own cot. "She threatened to take a horse whip to our arses for chatting with Merlin in the mornings. But since it's been a few years, she's warmed up to it."

I should have known! I should have _known _the lad was inescapable. But some strange part of me felt—relief? It took me a moment to identify the feeling. It was relief, even if I was always at odds with him, I was sighing with the knowledge that at least someone familiar might be passing through—no matter whom it was.

"Merlin?" I said, the revelation only taking a second.

"Aye, he comes by every morning at six-thirty to fetch the Crowned Prince's breakfast."

"Oh, I see," I nodded. "We probably don't see anything of the knights, do we?"

"For any other kingdom, I'd say it's impossible," Thea smirked. "But Camelot? Nay, some of 'em can't stay away. Sir Gwaine, for instance, and his tall, muscular friend—they are always passing through and stealing tidbits. A nibble of chicken there, a carrot stick there… It's like having two large children underfoot."

Now, _that _I could look forward to.

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><p><strong>I know it is short! But I will be updating regularly, again. It won't be long before the next chapter… I'm hoping I'll have it up by tomorrow! :)<strong>


	15. Palace Kitchens

**Dear Reviewers, **

**I've missed you all so much! I'm so happy to be back and updating regularly again.**

**Bottled Sunshine: **Have I told you before I LOVE your penname? It's dazzling. Thank-you for the congrats, I am so happy you like my story!

**ReadingRaven019: **I don't know what to say, I am _so _flattered. Thank-you so much for your reading and your enjoyment. I'm flummoxed. Thanks!

**And now, back to our regular (but poorly scheduled) updated program! **

**Love to all, **

**Pip**

* * *

><p>- Palace Kitchens –<p>

The Palace Kitchens are what I would expect in Camelot—large, tall ceilings, all the latest conveniences (including a way to freeze meats with ice blocks and wood shavings from the lumber yards outside of the city) and roaring fires big enough to cook a whole bovine in. There was the cellar full of food goods, dried fruits, meats, and herbs; a large kitchen with tables and fires and boiling pots; another room where all of the silver and gold flatware, goblets, pitchers, knives, pots, platters, cleavers, and the like were kept. There was a door that led to a garden, about thirty feet square. The garden was enclosed on all sides by walls within the interior of the castle, so a guests' balcony might look down on a square of earth below, and the garden might receive a square of sunlight and rain overhead. It held several rows of vegetables, and four beautiful apple trees. All grains and wheat were grown outside the city, and had always flourished since the horrible drought that followed Prince Arthur's killing of a unicorn. Not many were supposed to know of it due to the magic involved, but word passed quickly among servants, even for old gossip such as that.

The maids are awakened by a steward, Terrin, walking politely through the tiny hall and ringing a bell. I welcomed the sounds of Terrin calling at every door, "Ladies? If you please, it is time." It was the nicest way to awaken—before Terrin was employed, Thea told me that Mrs. Stewart used to bangs her fists on every door and threaten turning them in for sorcery if they didn't get out of bed quickly. Just after Terrin finished his round of gently rousing the maids, the bells in the tower chime five in the morning. A witching, ungodly hour. I shudder to think how they handle such early hours every morning, but I remind myself that I will grow used to it in time.

For my first task, I bent over the largest cauldron I'd ever seen in my life, scrubbing with such ferocity that Mrs. Stewart (the loud, brogue-speaking head cook) told me to slow down and bide my strength to last throughout the day.

Thea was nearby, chopping carrots and celery into chunks for a stew fit for a King. (Ironically, that is exactly whom it was for.) She seemed to be a right proper cook, and for the first night, she proved to be a proper roommate as well. She did not snore, and let me blow out the candle. I was used to late hours at the tavern, and she was asleep by the strokes of nine.

"I sleep like a log," she said to me, bundling down on her cot. "Just blow out the candle whenever you feel tired. Light doesn't keep me up. Tomorrow evening we can talk about your first day, and you can ask me any questions you're too scared to ask Mrs. Stewart."

"Oh, Stewart," I said half-heartedly. "I thought she said her name was Stort."

"The Celts'll do that oft enough," Thea replied cheerfully, turning over, and falling asleep promptly.

Knowing that I had the potential for a friend in Thea, I begged myself—with every violent scrub of the caldron—that I wouldn't ruin my chances.

There was no reason to not like Thea, but I was afraid my usual habit of self-preservation—both socially, emotionally, and physically—would kick in, and I would drive us both into an unhappy, room-sharing relationship.

_Don't ruin this, Wren_, I told myself. _Evoric has given me a chance to start anew. _And with a start, I realized that Merlin had encouraged me the same. _Don't hide beneath this armor you've got, _he said, _It'll get awfully lonely. _And as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

_Fresh, start. Fresh, start. _I repeated in my head, over and over, as I scraped the last bit of dried stew from the blacking and poured a pitcher of water in. Then I lugged the caldron over to the door of the garden, and threw the water out. Mrs. Stewart commanded that no water be wasted—if there was ever water to dump, no matter how dirty or thick, it was to be bestowed on the plants.

I dragged the caldron back in, stopping by one of the other cooks, a portly man named Gerard.

"Can you tell me where this belongs?" I asked breathlessly.

"Roll it on out, it goes 'neath the stable in the room w' the rest of the flatware an' pots," he replied, waving me on. "Don' you trip or nothin'!"

"I won't," I promised, rolling it out like he suggested. It was easier to move that way, turned over and spinning like a wheel. I rolled it to the other room, righted it, and pushed it beneath the table in the center of the room.

A maid sat at the table, polishing silver. She smiled kindly at me. "Gave you the biggest one, probably to test ya," she said, snapping her rag once and setting to a sharp knife. "You're the new one?"

"Yes, Wren," I said.

"Bit," she replied. "Lisbeth. But everyone calls me Bit."

"Pleasure," I smiled at her. "Excuse me, much to be done!"

"Best of luck," she offered, as I dashed back to the other room, and Mrs. Stewart handed me a very large rack made of iron, covered in burnt charcoal from the beef of the feast the night before.

I heaved it to my corner of the kitchen, in a spare place beside the roaring fire, out of the way of the other cooks and next to the door of the room where Bit polished.

I began to scrub, and looked up, and there was Merlin. And before I could stop myself, I said something stupid. Ridiculous. I cringe with the thought of it. I cannot help but wish I could beat myself with the foolishness of it. I admit it, to myself only—I was embarrassed.

Merlin spoke first. "Hello," he said, unsurely.

"Ah!" I said, grinning cheerfully. "My nemesis! And how are you today?" Then I stopped and clamped my mouth shut. I was horrified. It was flirtatious, as well as rude.

"Very well, thank-you," Merlin's boyish face broke into a relieved grin. "I thought—I thought you worked at the Rising Sun?"

"New situation," I said, without much relish. _A platter, _I thought, remembering our conversation. _A new situation that is a blessing. My platter is good. No complaining._

"And how do you feel about that?" Merlin asked, carefully.

"Seems that life has handed me a new platter," I said, equally careful. "How's yours?"

Merlin, for the first time, looked strained about something beyond himself, but he did not share. "My platter is as it was. Full. Blessed. A bit difficult to deal with."

"'Ere, luv," said Margaret, the oldest and most wrinkled cook in the kitchen. She handed him a tray. Full of fruits and breaded delights, sitting on silver plates, tea steaming in a tumbler—this was obviously Prince Arthur's breakfast.

My stomach growled, and I realized, I'd yet to eat anything.

Merlin took the tray from her, and beamed. "Margaret, if only you knew how much he enjoyed your breakfasts."

Margaret smiled, and then scowled. "Oh, he does, does he? Why do them goblets always come back with dents in 'em, then?"

"Oh, well," Merlin shrugged, "I'm afraid he throws them at me."

"Ah!" Margaret smiled again. "Then you provoke 'em, not me!"

Merlin nodded and ducked away with his tray, stopping once more by my side. "It's good to see you, Wren," he said sincerely, darting out the door and disappearing.

Mrs. Stewart came stomping through the opposite door. "Th' Prance 'as 'is sup'r?"

"Yes, ma'am," Margaret replied, "The lit'tl angel that works for 'em just came an' got it."

_The little angel? _I smirked. _I wonder what Gwaine would think of this bias. _

"Fin'ly!" Mrs. Stewart roared. "Th' Prance's fed, that mains breakin' fist fur th' rest of's."

Bit and Thea fairly pounced on me.

"Come on," Thea said, as all the cooks, maids, stewards, and servers stopped what they were doing, dropping all their projects and filing out of the room. "It's our turn."

"You haven't seen the servers hall yet?" Bit asked. "You'll love it."

"I worked in the palace before," I said curtly, forgetting myself. I quickly shrugged the attitude off and smiled at them. "How did I not get to see any of this before?"

"Oh, that's interestin'," Thea replied. "What was your position?"

"Ladies maid," I replied. "To the Lady Deanna."

"Oh yes, ladies maids get underfoot, they are forbidden to come in here," Bit explained.

"Ah, I see," I said evenly. That explained why Lady Deanna's food was always given to me, for their delivery, somewhere passing in the hall or at her door at mealtimes.

We entered the servers hall, and it was quaint, but very pretty. The stone walls were warmed with torchlight, and a small window let in a shape of sunlight directly on the long, rudimentary dining table, cut from half of a very thick tree. There were benches lain along each side, and we all squeezed in. We were handed the crudest of tin bowls, and the pot of porridge was passed down till we'd all gotten a large ladle-full.

I hated porridge, but I made myself eat it. It was made all the better when Bit poured me some Mead, and Thea told me I was welcome to follow her out to the garden and pick a fresh apple.

_A full platter, _I reminded myself, _I will not be lonely in my armor._

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><p><strong>A bit longer than usual, but I am starting on the next chapter… <strong>_**now. **_**Yay! Love to all, please please please review, reviews help me write! It's the food for my creative soul. **


	16. A Day Off

**Dear Reviewers, **

**You are all so sweet, I appreciate your reviews so much. In answer to a question; yes, Arthur will appear. I adore Arthur. He hasn't had much of a place in this story yet, but he will soon. It will not always be palaces and kitchens… there is adventure brewing on the horizon, my metaphorical writer's pen can smell it! **

**Love muchly,**

**Pip**

* * *

><p>- A Late Morning –<p>

After six consecutive days of solid work, from the wee hours in the morning till long after the evening's meals had ended, I was beginning to wonder if a person could die from repetitiveness.

One morning, Terrin didn't knock on our door. I awoke around seven, near a panic, but Thea rolled over and whispered, "Oi, go back to sleep. Day off."

I could hardly go back to sleep after the fear of being sacked had affected me, but I made myself lie quietly till the bells chimed eight. Then Bit came running into our room, dressed in a cloak and carrying a basket.

"Get up, lazy bones," she said to Thea. "I've got a picnic. Tesslandra, Lilliangil, and Petra have _our _jobs today. We're free!"

"Alright, alright, can't ever sleep in," growled Thea, throwing aside her threadbare blanket. "As long as we're not strayin' too far from the city, you know what happens to wood-goers."

"What happens to wood-goers?" I asked, worriedly.

"Oh, you know," Thea sighed theatrically. "Young people from the palace venture to the lower town or the woods, next thing you know, the bandits or some evil magic has torn our bodies apart, and the physician and his boy are investigating our violent deaths…"

"And this happens often?" I exclaimed.

"She's exaggerating," Bit declared. "Are you coming or not, Wren?"

The Woods, a mere few yards from the entrance to the Lower Towns –

"One day off every seven days," Thea said loudly, stretching out along the ground. She shut her eyes and threw her arms behind her head. "Spend most of it sleepin', strengthen up for the week!"

"Sleeping?" I asked, haughtily. "Sleeping! I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"What a horrible thing to say," Bit offered a handful of walnuts. I smiled and shook my head. She cracked one, and popped the contents into her mouth. "Thea's right, the best way to spend your off-day is to rest."

I glanced around at the surrounding trees, where a dazed sort of sunlight fell in rays between the green branches. The woods teemed with birdsong and dripping water.

"I can't recall if I've ever left the city," I mused to myself. "Maybe I have, before my parents death."

"I thought you said you were raised by an aunt and uncle," Bit asked.

"Mhm," I replied, uncomfortable. "They're all I remember. My parents brought me to Camelot when I was an infant, and died, but I do not know how or why."

"Did they die in the Great Purge? That was about twenty years ago. Many suffered," Thea said practically. "Innocent people."

"I never once considered that my parents were involved in any magic," I said thoughtfully. "But I suppose since I am not magical, I'd never know. My aunt and uncle were my only family, and I barely spent any time with them. They died in Lady Morgana's usurping."

"Queen Mor_gana_," Bit repeated, mockingly. "Ugh."

"Morgan _Le Fay_," Thea replied, disgustedly.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Fairy," Thea explained. "She was a _sorceress!_"

"So?" I asked. "The poor girl was brought up in luxury without parents and ward to the man who bed her mother and tricked her father—so the gossip says. She claimed the Pendragon line, thanks to Uther's indecency. Only to have him cast her out, and keep a half-sister hidden from her, and throw her in prison anytime she disappointed him. That is so… unfair."

"You sympathize with the witch?" Bit asked.

"I sympathize with what drove her to becoming one," I snapped. "She comes from a broken up sort of family and past. Those kinds of emotions clearly drove her to the edge. I should know," I added hotly, "That kind of bitterness is easy to keep close, till you don't know yourself anymore."

"Speakin' from experience, are we?" Thea hummed casually.

"No!" I barked, and suddenly realized my increased volume was unnecessary. "Alright—maybe. Maybe I understand the basis for letting oneself go—either way. Though _I'm _trying to improve. Morgana went the other way."

"This is the first time you've really opened up to us," Bit said kindly.

"Yeah, you've been pretty nice, though a bit stiff-necked," Thea added.

I glared at her.

"But you're a good worker, and a good roommate," Thea pulled a bottle of mead out of Bit's picnic basket, and proceeding to pour the three of us cups-full. "But you're far from perfect. Keep workin' at it."

"Oh, thanks," I said sarcastically, taking the tin cup.

Bit held hers up for a toast. "To new friends!"

As our cups clunked together, the face that came to mind was Merlin.

- The Lower Town –

"I wondered if we'd ever meet again."

I turned, and suddenly, there was Gwaine. _My first friend, _I thought ruefully, _A little bit of advice and tough love. How I've missed your annoyances. _

"Oh!" exclaimed Bit, seeing whom I was standing with. "Um," she added, "We're going to go… over there?" She grabbed Thea by the hand, and the two of them skirted down the road aways, through the open market and disappearing behind some carts.

I looked sheepishly up at Gwaine. His hair had grown even longer, and his form of dress even less knightly-looking. "Hello," I said simply.

"And where have you been?" he asked, grinning down at me. "The Rising Sun has been empty as of late."

"Evoric presented me with an opportunity to work in the palace again," I explained. "So I took it."

Gwaine was surprised. "You live in the palace now, and you haven't been to see me?"

"I work in the kitchens," I said, "I can't visit a Knight of Camelot on a whim."

"I give you permission," Gwaine pouted. "Hang propriety."

"I'd like to keep this job," I said firmly, "Three jobs in one year seems incredible for a girl of my age in this kingdom. I will do naught to risk it."

"Hmph," Gwaine shrugged, then suddenly brightened. "You know," he said, "I tried this once on a fair maiden, and it did little but inspire distaste and refusal. I have since given up on love entirely. However… allow me to…" he whipped a small flower out of no where, and tucked it behind my ear. "Give you something to brighten things up."

I felt my stomach lurch with nervousness. As quickly as I had shed it, and attempted to be bitter-free and friendly, the armor was back. The armor had returned, and it was polished and strong. I didn't know why.

"Oh, that's… nice," I said shortly.

Gwaine frowned. "It's just a little flower. A little token of my affections."

"I don't think I should have any of your affection," I mumbled quietly.

"Why ever not?"

_Yes, why, Wren? _I thought angrily. _Why ruin everything with your insecurities? Is it too comfortable in your armor? Too frightened to see what its like to have a friend? Too afraid to fall for someone? Or too afraid to lose what you've gained in strength, the emotionless personality made of steel?_

"Thank-you for the flower," I forced myself to say, unable to acknowledge what I'd just come to believe.

_I felt something for Sir Gwaine, unexpectedly, and undeservedly. He should be with someone nicer._

"Why the long face?" Gwaine asked, losing the bravado voice he so often employed.

"Sir," I forced every emotion—all of them—down, down, deep into my armor, where it rightfully belonged. I smiled up at him, a disguise. "I only think of what will happen to the poor flower without any water?"

Gwaine grinned—I was speaking his language now, flirtation. "Why, m'lady," he said, offering me his arm. "It will surely die, and I will have to find you a better, stronger flower to replace it."

I took his arm.

"Shall I escort you back to the kitchens?" he asked, a little disappointed.

"It's my day off," I said lightly.

Gwaine twitched his head in order to sweep his ridiculously long mane out of his eyes. "Then may I have the pleasure of abducting you for the day?"

"You may," I said, my stomach quivering.

* * *

><p><strong>UH... This wasn't supposed to be a romance, I don't know what happened. These characters are running things now, and I don't know how to control them. *smack* Behave yourselves, kids! I am the authoress, you do MY bidding! <strong>

**Uh… so… leave your reviews? I am sure you are as confused as I. I don't know what is in Gwaine's head. He should keep his hands to himself. Stop flirting with my story. This is not the ending I had planned. It was supposed to end with… well, not this. **

***runs away into a corner and tries to contemplate life decisions***


	17. The Training Green

**Dear Reviewers,**

**I am so overwhelmed by all your kind words about this story. You're all lovely. I wish you all cake from John Barrowman, advice from Aslan, and a snuggle from an Ewok. You're all just that awesome. Also, though he has been sadly delayed, I now bring you: ARTHUR! Also, though this potential for romance is quite unexpected, I'm not going to sacrifice my greater plot… which includes some swordplay, and soon, a great catastrophe and adventure. Just you wait ;)**

**Love,**

**Pip**

**PS: I will return to writing short chapters soon, but I was just enjoying this one so much that I just… didn't stop writing for a long time. Haha.**

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><p>- The Training Green –<p>

"Would you like to see what I'm doing, day in and day out?" Gwaine asked, right arm crooked for me to rest my hand in—as if he were escorting a real lady into court.

I looked back to find Thea and Bit, but they had run off. I could barely see them in the distance, hiding behind a cart. They waved me on, wearing devilish grins.

"You mean when you aren't off saving the world?" I asked, with only a little sarcasm.

"Other than patrols, and a run-in with some unruly hunters, we've had no cause to save anything. Since Camelot's no longer Morgana's plaything, we're boring."

"In that case," I shrugged, "What _do _you do, day in and day out?"

Gwaine and I had walked up the causeway, leading out of the lower town and past the tournament grounds.

"We train," he smiled. We had reached the main entrance of Camelot, through the gates, and into the green between the outer curtain and the drawbridge, which would lead to the main courtyard. We were within the training grounds between the outer and inner walls.

"THERE YOU ARE!" said a loud, abrasive tone. Prince Arthur himself was striding up to us, eyebrows wild and mouth perturbed. "You know when I _knighted _you, _Sir _Gwaine, it somehow implied that you'd actually stick around and _train…_" he suddenly realized he was rhyming. "Training to, you know, be a knight."

I was frozen. _What do I do?_ I'd been forced to tag along behind the Lady Deanna to all the court summons, but I'd never actually met the prince or his father. I'd only ever seen them from the back of a line or a crowd. We were instructed for a long time that if we encountered them unexpectedly, we were expected to fall down on our knees, forehead pressed to the ground. _But isn't that a bit old fashioned?_ I panicked, tugging at Gwaine's arm, trying to loosen myself for a curtsy, at least. Gwaine's grip was relentless.

It was too late, the prince had reached us. He was dressed in heavy armor, and blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Trotting along behind him like a faithful squire was none other than Merlin.

"Well, Sire, I just wasn't in the mood to beat you in swordplay again," Gwaine shrugged. "Figure I'd give you a rest."

"I don't need _rest!_" the prince cried indignantly.

Merlin was grinning like a pleased sheepdog. "What he _means _to say is, 'you're late'," he snickered. "And you're up."

"Why didn't you say so?" Gwaine grinned and smacked the Prince's shoulder.

"You've got to learn some respect," the Prince rolled his eyes, punching him in the shoulder, hard.

Gwaine winced and finally relaxed his arm, letting my hand loose. I grabbed my skirts and bent low, curtseying and keeping my head low.

"Sire," I said.

"Hi!" said Merlin, brightly.

"Sire, this is Wren, Wren, this is… Sire," said Gwaine, "Or Prince Arthur, as he is more fondly called."

"Pleasure to meet you," Prince Arthur shot a dark look at Gwaine, and nodding shortly to me. "I'm ready when you are."

"Another moment, if you please," Gwaine smiled and turned, focusing on me. The prince turned on heel and marched away. Merlin beamed at me again, then followed.

"Good lord," I said with some abandon, "I didn't curtsy correctly. You—you—how are you not in fear of losing your head?"

"My head is fine," Gwaine laughed, "What are you so worried about?"

"Oh, I don't know, the rules of life?" I exclaimed. "Decorum and respect and rubbish?"

"That's exactly what it is," Gwaine said, "Rubbish. I tease the Prince. I think we're friends. I do what I do, and he keeps me on as a knight. I won't sacrifice who I am for the sake of acting like a perfect servant. I serve Camelot because a good friend convinced me that it was worth serving."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Merlin," Gwaine said. "Before he came along, Arthur may have chopped off my head. Luckily for me, Arthur isn't like most royalty. Merlin showed me that."

"So you're all bosom friends then?" I asked dryly. "You're not going to end up tied to a stake and set afire?"

"Why?" Gwaine asked flirtatiously. "Are you worried about me?"

"No!" I said, a little too quickly. "I'm… I'm sure you can handle yourself."

"You hardly know me," Gwaine joked.

"Kitchen maids talk," I replied, "They say that before you were a knight, you were a sword for hire."

Gwaine tilted his head. "Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't."

"You are a rascal," I declared. "A rascal who is late for his training. I suppose I ought to go and leave you to it—"

"No, stay," Gwaine caught my hand. "I'm only up for a few rounds."

"I don't want to be a bother," I glanced around the busy green. "You know the only commoners here are the squires and manservants. I am neither of those."

"You're not a bother, you're a welcome distraction," Gwaine pleaded. "Come on—let me show off a little."

"Uh, alright," I said unsurely. "Where should I go…?"

"Come with me!" Merlin was suddenly at my side. "It'll be fun. Come on."

I hesitated, frowning.

Gwaine grinned. "Why yes, Wren, why don't you go with Merlin?" He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Don't think I don't remember what we discussed in the tavern that night. I know this might not be the easiest thing. But I know you can do it."

"It isn't so much being _able _to do it," I whispered back. "Merlin isn't so unbearable as he used to be."

"Then what was the look for?" Gwaine asked quietly.

"It's the look of defeat I get," I replied, "When I am slowly coming to the admittance of my wrongs."

"Aha," Gwaine nodded thoughtfully, with a wayward smile that seemed unable to ever leave his face. "Then perhaps you've had a chance to change your opinions of him?"

Merlin waited a few feet away, patiently trying not to eavesdrop.

"Alright, Merlin," I said loudly, marching away from Gwaine's searching eyes and his rather intimate whisper. "Show me where to go."

Merlin smiled like a kid, and trotted over to a small tent, where a table was set up before it. It was covered in weapons.

"I see you and Gwaine have become close," Merlin quipped.

"I hardly know him," I said slowly, "But I do admire him. He asked me for my company."

"You know he hasn't done that for years," Merlin said.

"Done what?"

"Pursued a girl," Merlin answered. "He flirts with anything that moves, but it's different with you. I've never seen him look so…"

"So what?"

"Well, smitten might be too strong a word," Merlin picked up a shield. "But it's pretty close." He turned and trotted over to the Prince, handed him the shield, and trotted back. Gwaine was at a table at the other end, where another servant helped outfit him in armor and a long sword.

I stared after him, my jaw metaphorically hitting the ground. _Even a weak level of smitten…_

Merlin came back, and sat on the grass. He patted the ground next to him. I joined him and brought my knees to my chin, watching the knights arm themselves with some interest.

"And this is the part where they all beat the daylights out of each other," Merlin narrated.

I couldn't help but smile. "You sound like you really enjoy this."

"More so now than I did before," Merlin replied. "Now that Arthur has friends who like getting beat up."

_Friends, friends, friends. Everyone has friends. _Suddenly, my mind snapped, like a branch breaking off in the wind. Everything made sense. I couldn't describe it before—Merlin thought I hated him. Gwaine thought I was jealous. But I knew what it was now.

"Merlin," I said.

"Yes, Wren?"

"I don't hate you," I said. "Maybe I did, a little, because I didn't understand what I was feeling."

Merlin looked at me, his big, baby-blue eyes entirely focused and serious. "Go on."

"It's because I didn't have any friends," I explained. "It's not an excuse, it's just a reason. You were friends with everyone you met, even nobility. I was friends with _no one._ I was jealous because I _wasn't _your friend," I sighed with exasperation. "It makes sense in my head. I didn't know how to act. But I think, deep down, I wondered why I wasn't your friend."

"Because you were all prickles and stings," Merlin smiled. "Believe me, I tried to be your friend."

"I get it now," I said, "There is no reason for me to dislike you, you're too nice. I couldn't figure out why till now. It's because I felt left out… in a way. I want to be _your _friend."

"Oh Wren," Merlin said with a half-smile. "You know that armor we talked about?"

"How could I forget?" I said. "That comment that you made about my armor… mind armor, what ever it is… I couldn't shake the thought of it. Now that I'm aware, it feels like it's always there, and…"

"Wren, Wren!" Merlin laughed. "It's gone—okay?"

"What?"

"Your armor. As of ten seconds ago. You don't have to try and explain—I get it. You were so brittle and silver, and now you're trying to explain how you feel. Do you know what we call that?"

"…what?"

"Vulnerability," Merlin smiled. "And sometimes, it's good for you."

"Maybe I'm just emotional," I admitted, frowning.

"Maybe you're unable to conceal what's really going on," Merlin hinted.

"And, again, what is that?"

"You like _him,_" Merlin gestured to Gwaine, now fully armored, and ready for a sparring with the Prince. "Meeting someone special has a way of stripping away caution, reason, and even casual meanness. I've seen love change villains to heroes. I've seen love change prats to wise leaders. Maybe you're falling for him."

Gwaine saw our attention and raised his sword in a salute.

"Maybe I am," I said slowly, "But you know nothing can happen."

"Why not?"

"He's a knight. I'm a kitchen maid."

"Arthur will be king one day," Merlin said. "That doesn't stop him from seeing a certain maid…"

"Huh?" I asked.

"Why, Wren," Merlin laughed, "For living in the palace for so long, you really are out of the loop…"

"Like I said, no friends," I replied.

"So you've never met Gwen?"

"Gwen…? The one who used to serve Lady Morgana?"

"That's the one," Merlin looked at me closely, his gaze wandering to my hair. "You know—that goblet probably left a scar."

"Uh… yes?" I replied. "I suppose so. My hair hides whatever is there."

Merlin gave me a friendly elbow nudge. "It's okay to have scars we can't see. The important thing is to move past them."

I tilted my head and looked at him sideways. "But they are always there."

"Mhm," Merlin nodded. "Everything heals. Sometimes, out of sight, out of mind. So what if you had no friends, lost your aunt and uncle, and lost a job or two?"

"Sounds awfully callous."

"Does it? I'm only excluding the facts that you have a job now, a place to live, and a friend like me," Merlin grinned toothily. "You can't let the past hold you back. If you do, it will plunge you in despair for the rest of your life." His eyes clouded over, just a little.

"Just like you don't let your past hold you back?" I asked.

"Just like that."

"And what kind of past is that?" I asked, curiously.

Merlin shook his head. "I'll tell you about it sometime, but it's complicated. And I've moved on. They're just scars now."

"I think I get the metaphor," I smiled a little.

"I tried my best," Merlin replied.

"So what qualifies you to give me advice about love?" I asked, mostly joking, but secretly hoping he'd answer. "Does Merlin have a secret beau?"

"I had one once," he said slowly, "She died."

I froze. "Oh… Merlin… I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago," Merlin brushed it off, changing the subject. "Now let me tell you a little something about Gwen and a certain Prince of Camelot…"

- Later -

Mind reeling, I watched Gwaine and Arthur battle it out to their hearts content. So if the Prince was courting a servant girl… _then who is to say that Gwaine and I could not court as well?_

**CLANG!**

Their swords clashed together and swung apart. They paused, and with a roar, Arthur attacked, Gwaine sidestepped, and gently swatted the Prince on the back with the flat of his sword.

"You're dead," he chuckled.

"Again," the Prince commanded. They went at it again, this time the Prince parried better than before. They were a whirl of blade and sweat. Gwaine twirled his sword in a circular motion, till his blade caught just beneath the hilt of the Prince's sword. Dangerously close to cutting off his fingers, Gwaine simply flicked the blade, causing the Prince to lose his grip. His sword flew through the air and landed in Gwaine's outstretched hand. Now he had two swords, and the Prince had none.

"That's his favorite trick," Merlin whispered. "We all know he can do it, but he never does it for us. He's just showing off for you."

"That was pretty brilliant," I whispered back, "But don't tell him I said so."

"Again!" the Prince declared, shaking his head with a rueful grin. Gwaine handed him back his sword, and this time, the Prince was warmed up and fighting with such strength and ferocity that I hadn't seen before. This time the Prince had the upper hand, blow after blow, till finally the blade caught Gwaine in the shoulder. His sword-hand dropped, and the Prince aimed the sword for his neck but made no further moves.

"Yield," Gwaine huffed. "Perc, get in here before I fall over."

Percival, the broadest knight of them all, stepped forward and swung his sword around for good measure with a devilish grin.

"Have you had enough, your Highness?" he joked.

"I'll let Elyan take this one," the Prince laughed, smacking Sir Percival in the shoulder. Sir Elyan bounded up and they went at it. Sir Percival was twice the size of Sir Elyan, but Sir Elyan was clumsier, making for unpredictable moves. They came to a blow that slid the blades together, till they were hilt to hilt, and both at an impasse.

"Yield?" Sir Elyan gasped.

"Never!" barked Sir Percival. Suddenly, Gwaine was behind Sir Percival, kicking him behind his locked knee. Percival yelped with surprise and stumbled backwards to catch his footing, roaring like an angry bear. Elyan ran for his opportunity and tapped Sir Percival's chest plate with his sword, crying, "Yield now!"

"Treachery!" shouted Sir Lancelot, running into the fray. Elyan and Sir Percival glanced at each other incredulously, suddenly deciding to be allies with evil smiles. They both attacked Sir Lancelot at once, and he began to fight them both off. Merlin and I burst into laughter at their antics.

"This is supposed to be _training!_" Prince Arthur bemoaned, sighing. "When real trouble comes, none of you will be any good to me."

Gwaine came back to us, flipping his long hair out of his dripping face. "Are you impressed yet, m'lady?"

"Slightly," I replied.

"Slightly!" repeated Merlin, bursting into a throaty chuckle.

Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "Do you think you can do better?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, no, I don't fight…"

"Come on," Gwaine extended his hand. "Let's see what the lady can do."

Prince Arthur glanced over, looking as if he disapproved. "Sir Gwaine, I don't think…"

"Ach, Sire, we're just having a bit of fun," Gwaine protested. He helped me up, and we walked over to the table. I picked up a small sword, and was surprised to find it extremely heavy.

"Now," Gwaine instructed, taking a stance some distance for me. "Show me an arm."

I tried to pose, _en guarde, _but I did not really know what I was doing. _This is so embarrassing, _I thought, glancing around and seeing that everyone was watching with amused faces. _I'm not a public person, I'm just going to make a fool of myself…_

Gwaine slowly reached out with his sword, and with a _DING, _tapped his blade against mine. "I just attacked very slowly," he joked.

"I can see that," I said, repeating his move. _DING._

"You're brilliant," Gwaine said sarcastically. "Isn't she brilliant?"

"The brilliantest," Merlin exclaimed.

"That's not even a word, idiot," Prince Arthur hollered.

"Try a left," Gwaine instructed, as if we danced. It felt like we were dancing. I felt closer to him in this way than when we sat across the bar from each other or when his arm held my hand in the lower towns. I felt self-conscious and exhilarated. "Good!" he exclaimed, as I tried to imitate what he was doing. "That's good. Isn't she good?"

"Uh…" Sir Leon was completely unaffected by the jokes, and wasn't sure if he could lie. "I should think… with some work… maybe…"

"Lighten up, Leo," Gwaine laughed.

Sir Lancelot was smiling. "Does the lady wish to be a knight?"

"No, I'm just… playacting," I replied.

"Sir Gwaine," the Prince suddenly barked, sounding very official and pompous. "I think we're through here. You may go."

We all looked at the Prince, most of them more disbelievingly than the others. I just wondered if I was breaking some sort of rule…

Prince Arthur was striding over to us, full of purpose, eyes dark blue and fists clenched. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice to me. "It's just… the King…"

We followed his gaze. The King was approaching the green, walking carefully across the drawbridge. I hardly recognized him. I hadn't seen him since before his collapse—it was like a different person. He was sickly, and frail. He walked with the help of a finely carved cane, trailed by Gaius the physician and several other servants. Sir Leon gave us all a nod, and being his oldest and most trusted knight, walked purposefully across the field to greet Uther boldly.

"I didn't know your father was coming out today," Merlin gasped.

"Neither did I," the Prince whispered. "I'm sorry everyone. Fun's over. In your best interest, Wren, I suggest you leave."

"I'll walk you back," Gwaine said, glumly.

"No, you have to stay," the Prince said firmly. "He is here to see the knights in action. He's here to… well… you know." His voice was a little bitter. "He's here to make sure I'm doing things properly. He'll want to make sure I'm not cutting any slack, for anyone."

"I understand, sire," I said quickly, "Thank-you for allowing us the time we had." I looked at Gwaine. "Don't worry, I'm capable of walking back myself."

"Yeh," Gwaine said shortly, his eyes full of intense dislike for King Uther. "But I was hoping to steal you for the entire day."

I smiled at him. "Consider our day together postponed."

Sir Leon came jogging back. "It's not what you think."

"What?" the Prince asked.

"No need to line up," Sir Leon said to the rest of the knights. "He's just here to speak to Prince Arthur."

Prince Arthur took a deep breath, as if summoning an entirely different personality that he only possessed while around his father. He turned and followed Sir Leon back to Uther.

They stood there, speaking lowly for a time.

"Maybe we'll spend time together anyway," Gwaine said slowly, "But why do I get the feeling that something has happened and will interrupt us after all?"

"Does it feel cold to anyone else?" Sir Lancelot asked quietly.

Merlin looked around. The clouds had drifted in, covering the sun. The sky was still blue, and perfect. But we were in shadow.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes it does."

We watched as Uther's procession made its way out of the field, and disappeared through the drawbridge, and returned to the inner square of citadel.

Sir Leon and Prince Arthur slowly turned, and with shoulders slumped, walked back towards us.

"What's going on?" Merlin asked quickly. "What's wrong?" his eyes were full of concern, completely focused on the Prince.

Prince Arthur chewed his lip for a moment, straightening, as if preparing for a good lie. "The King had some news for me," he said politely, "And Gaius urged him to get out of his bed chamber instead of summoning me. He said the fresh air would be good for him and make him, um, stronger. So he was just taking a little walk. The King—I hope—will be healthier within the week."

He was putting a brave face on.

"What else?" Merlin asked gently. "Something is wrong. We can all see it."

It was Sir Leon who spoke, when Prince Arthur offered nothing.

"The Lady Morgana was spotted in the Darkling Woods this morning," he said slowly, still saying her name with respect. "The King has commanded we take a patrol out and bring her in for justice."

This was met with utter silence. Finally, Gwaine whistled slowly.

"Yup," he said, looking at me with a rueful expression. "Postponed."

With that word, I felt as if a very small balance had been upset—the way a small pebble falls to begin the avalanche.

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><p><strong>Please leave your reviews! Adventure on the way! <strong>


	18. The Night

**Dearest, most wonderful Reviewers,**

**Hello all. I am so pleased with your thoughts, they all mean the world to me. And I am very glad you all came to the same conclusion about Wren, that she is definitely not a Mary-Sue. After all, if I were to fall in love with a character on the show, it'd **_**NEVER**_** be Gwaine! Heh heh. And that is how you all can rest assured that Wren is far from a Mary-Sue. **

**Cheers!**

**Pip**

**PS: Mayhem and mystery galore in this chapter, adventure on the way!**

* * *

><p>- The Night –<p>

...

"Wren?" said a voice—feminine, rich, privileged, and manipulative. I recognized the voice. It was one I had heard before. But I could not place where.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Wake up," said the voice, patiently.

"What for?" I sighed.

"Don't you smell it?" the voice purred.

"Smell what?"

"The blood on your hands."

I looked down, and Gwaine was lying dead in my arms.

...

- The Bedroom –

I rolled over, crying in the darkness. _Bloody hell, _I gasped inwardly, _Just a bad dream. _

"What's wrong?" Thea asked, groaning.

"Nothing… go back to sleep, just a dream," I mumbled, burying my face in my pillow.

...

- The Kitchen –

"Y'loch lick y'aven't slept non," Mrs. Stewart exclaimed as I worked the next morning. This time, I was allowed to help Thea begin preparing lunch for the entire court. I was resigned to chopping and preparing fresh fruits and vegetables, while she did the actual cooking.

"Poor night's rest, she'll feel better after lunch," Thea said quickly.

Mrs. Stewart moved on, and I raised my eyebrows at Thea questionably.

"I figured the last thing you wanted was to be sent to Gaius's for a sleep potion," she whispered. "We all know what happened when the Lady Morgana was plagued with dreams."

I was a bit hazy on _that _strand of gossip. "What?" I asked quietly.

"Dreams became nightmares, and nightmares became magic," Thea shuddered, as if a cold breeze had passed through her body. "And the elegant Lady Morgana became _Morgan Le Fay, _the witch and the murderess."

I shuddered, too.

...

- Later –

"It's been three days," I mumbled.

"Three days since you've seen your one true love," Bit wailed dramatically. "O, that our day times thrice be ever so long, like the season of winter that cometh after the fiery haze…"

"Oi, shut up," Thea fought a smile. "She's got reason to worry."

"Isn't it just a routine patrol?" Bit asked.

"A possible lead on the location of Morgana," I whispered. "What if they encounter her, and she hurts them?"

"You can be really sweet when you're worried a certain someone," Thea commented slyly.

"I can turn the sweetness off at the drop of a hat," I snapped.

"That's what I like about you," Bit exclaimed. "You can be nice one minute, and hard-nosed the next."

"As far as I know, that's not a quality I should be proud of," I responded.

"According to the Prince's manservant, maybe," Thea said. "Here's where your new friends disagree, Wren. Merlin seems to think everyone should be rainbows and unicorns from the rising to the setting of the sun. I don't think that's quite possible."

"Don't let Merlin turn you into just another happy face with a heavy heart," Bit offered. "It's okay to be have… a catalyst sometimes."

"I think you've misunderstood where Merlin is coming from…" I protested.

Suddenly, Bit and Thea were howling with laughter.

"_We've_ misunderstood?" laughed Bit hysterically.

"Says the kettle to the pot!" Thea agreed. "I never thought I'd hear _you _defend him."

Suddenly, Bit threw her arms around me. "There is hope for you yet," she laughed outrageously, "That was a wonderful thing to say!"

"Oh, get off me," I sulked.

"Yes, Bit, get off her," Thea added. "She's quite sensitive now."

"Shut up, you!" I unlatched Bit's arms and pushed her gently away. "If you two are going to completely lose yourselves every time you sense development or maturation, it's going to put you in the dungeons for insanity."

...

- The Garden –

I took my lunch in the garden, eating some bread and cheese and musing—sleepily—on the colors of the sunlight dappled under the apple tree. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the clattering of hooves and the shouts of guardsmen.

"Hey, you," Bit called through the kitchen door, "The Prince returned—all knights accounted for. Just so you know."

The day came, and went, and Gwaine didn't come to see me. I was not permitted to go see him, but I couldn't help but think about him.

...

- The Night –

"Wren," said the voice, commandingly.

"Yes?" I replied.

"Awaken."

"No, please. Leave me alone."

"Don't you want to see it?"

"See what?" I asked, troubled.

"My kingdom," she said.

I opened my eyes, and the forest was nothing but night falling, green pines, and the cold shrill wind. I took a step forward and stumbled, over a body. The ground was littered with them, men that were sprawled and lumped together, across the clearing, over logs and rocks. Crumpled like fallen branches, with matted blood everywhere.

...

- The Dining Hall –

"Ladies," Terrin's soft spoken, genteel voice rang quietly through the hall. "With the recent bout of a bad cold, we are a bit understaffed. You are _chosen _to help, and you ought to enjoy working in here, for it may be the last time you work among such finery."

Due to working for the Lady Deanna, the dining hall was much more familiar to me. For the kitchen maids who had never been employed anywhere else, this was their first time seeing the room. Mouths dropped open and appreciative _Ahs! _swept the room in a hushed reverence. With several of the servers down with an aching cough and runny noses, Terrin hand-picked a team of kitchen maids to join him upstairs for clearing the dining hall after a huge banquet. Representatives from all over the kingdom had been invited to a luncheon with the Prince Arthur, it was his way of connecting to towns outside of the city and hearing the needs of his people. As far as I knew, he made a great impression—Uther had never thrown a grand lunch for leaders who were, at best, dirty farmers elected to represent their neighbors.

And we, dirty kitchen maids, were here to clean up the empty plates and stained napkins.

It had been a week since the Prince returned, and tomorrow was my day off.

I wondered if I'd see Gwaine tomorrow, or if I was just hoping for something that would never happen.

...

- The Night –

"Wren?" said the voice.

"Yes," I replied, ready for it this time.

"Wake up," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Can't you hear it?" said the voice.

"Hear what?" I asked.

"The screams," she replied, and in the darkness, I could not hear the screams. But I could hear her smile.

...

- A Day Off –

"Wren, you look a sorry state," Thea's voice cut into the darkness. With a groan, I lifted my eyelids with little strength. "Have you slept at all? You've got dark circles under your eyes like you got into a bar tussle."

"Slept like the dead," I lied, "Maybe I'm just getting a cold? I feel well, though." I threw back the blanket and shivered in the morning chill, thrusting my feet into my laced boots and drawing a woven shawl around my shoulders. "Perhaps I just look ugly in the morning."

"Not possible," Thea said kindly. "You're lovely."

"Really?" I said in a small voice, never having heard anything of the kind before. I counted Gwaine's flirtations as empty praise, and didn't once think of myself as attractive.

"Clear skin, dark hair?" said Thea, "Some of us would kill for looks as those."

"What is this you speak of?" I exclaimed dubiously. "I'd die for hair as red as yours and eyes as green as yours."

"But my freckles are ghastly," Thea said, astonished.

"They are not," I argued.

Thea sighed. "It's too early in the morning for this. Let us agree—I wish I looked like you. And you wish you looked like me."

"Or," I said, "I will try my best to believe I am beautiful, if you will try and believe you are beautiful. Do we have an accord?"

"I begrudgingly accept this bargain," Thea sighed, tossing a pillow at me. We fell silent, for a moment. She sat up and began to lace up her vest.

"Are we friends?" I asked.

Thea glanced at me. "Yes."

"And I can trust you?"

"What's troubling you, Wren?"

"I've been having a variation of the same nightmare, these past few nights…"

"Tell me about them."

...

- The Courtyard –

Walking down to the lower town seemed like a wonderful idea. I could use the fresh air, clear my head, and resolve to the fact that our differences in schedules, class distinction, and duty would make it impossible for Gwaine and I to pursue any sort of friendship.

"Hi!" said Merlin's voice.

"Merlin!" I said with some surprise. "I thought you'd be with the Prince."

"He's sleeping off the draughts of last night," chuckled Merlin. "He instructed me not to awaken him before lunch hour."

"That must be nice," I said politely. "Um… so… what brings you here?"

"I'm on my way to the lower towns, I've agreed to help Gaius this morning." Merlin waved. "So I can't stay, but it was good to see you."

"And you," I said politely. He turned to leave. "Uh, Merlin," I said quickly, "I don't suppose you know if… um…"

"Where Gwaine is?" Merlin asked, whirling around, apprehending my busybody query.

"Maybe not 'where', exactly," I corrected, "Maybe why he hasn't been… around."

"The knights have been kept busy from morning till night, training all day, not taking any care not to hurt each other—they've been using each other as punching sacks," Merlin rolled his eyes. "Arthur is working them very hard."

"Why?" I asked, surprised.

"Because our last lead was total failure," Merlin explained sadly. "It wasn't the knights fault, but we were outnumbered and out-strengthed. Morgana had since moved on, but left a cave—in which she was staying—to a group of bandits that were mean and looking for a fight. She set up a trap for us, _just _to play with us."

"None of them were hurt?" I pressed.

"A few head knocks. Bandits are no match for trained knights. Why, are you worried?" Merlin smirked.

"You're a terrible tease," I said, frustrated. "I have a mind to…"

My threat was cut short by a scream coming from the lower town.

The Lower Town –

It seemed that Merlin and I were the last to arrive in the Lower Town, near a cottage made of crude wood stuck between an apothecary's office and a shack where empty wine caskets were stored. A crowd had gathered, and the physician was already there.

"Follow me," said Gaius, pushing his way through the crowd. Merlin ducked after him, and I stayed where I was.

It seemed an eternity before they stepped out again, and the crowd clamored for the news.

"Why'd she scream? What's going on?" they all demanded.

"This is a matter for the King," Gaius said darkly, "And to him the news shall be delivered. Excuse us."

Merlin and Gaius began the slow walk back up the hill towards the citadel. Disappointed, the crowd dispersed, except for a few desperate souls that knocked their fists on the door of the shack, only to remain unanswered.

I followed Merlin, unsure of what else to do. I did not even need to ask.

"There was a lad that lived there," Merlin said quietly, "A lad named Fjord. He supposedly ran away a few days ago—the mother did not seek to report it to any guardsmen, as she thought it was just a routine rebelliousness of an adolescent. But when she returned to her home after a visit to the market, she found his body in his bed this morning. Placed there by god-knows-what."

"And the lad is dead?" I clarified.

"I'm afraid so."

"Do you think it was murder?" I asked.

"A blow to the head. Whether its murder or accidental, we don't know," Merlin sighed.

"Wren," said Gaius suddenly, "It is very good to see you. I do wish I could sit and have a chat with you sometime. But I'm afraid Merlin and I need to keep this within a smaller party, and…"

"I won't tell a soul, and I'll leave you to it," I said quickly. "I am sorry I am so nosy."

"Was that an apology?" Merlin quipped, a ghost of a smile.

"I take it back," I shook my head and tentatively patted his arm. "I'll see you another time."

Merlin waved forlornly, and I stopped following them up the hill. I remained where I was, with a sigh, looking around the Lower Town with less excitement. What was there to do now, in a small town that was the setting of a dead boy and a possible murder? Was it safe for me to wander around?

I suddenly remembered my dream. The horrible thought occurred to me that my nightmares had become magic, and the disembodied voice was my own, and perhaps I had killed the boy in sleepwalking. I shivered and hugged my arms, choosing to leave the Lower Town and return to my room. I could have a lie-in, and catch up on the sleep I'd been losing lately.

Suddenly, there was a splash in the muddy road, as a horse frothy with sweat suddenly galloped past me. I flung myself out of the way, eyes wide with surprise. A stranger, a farmer by his dress, was clinging to the horse's mane with all his might.

With a "Hiya!" he spurred the horse on, and it ran like a devil all the way up to the citadel. I heard its hooves against the paved courtyard.

_What the devil? _I thought, unable to quell my curiosity this time.

I followed the shouts to the citadel.

...

- The Throne Room –

_I'm forbidden to be in here, _I thought, _But it is my day off, isn't it?_

The farmer had left his horse in the middle of the yard, panting and nearly collapsing with exhaustion. I had passed it and carefully walked—like I had business here—up the stairs, into the great hall, and into the throne room. The guards recognized me from serving Lady Deanna, and didn't bat an eye when I walked past them.

I stood in the back, trying to be inconspicuous.

The man was standing at the base of the throne, hands held as if in prayer. He was pleading with Prince Arthur, who sat in the throne. His eyes were raised at the intrusion. Merlin and Gaius were already there, standing beside Arthur, faces masked with apprehension.

"Please," the man was saying, "Let me speak to the King."

"I'm afraid that is impossible," the Prince replied, calmly. "He is ill. I am working in his stead. Please, feel free to speak to me with the same confidence."

The man gulped. "It's… my wife, sir. She disappeared last night. We live on a farm, one of your wheat farms, your highness. We're not three miles from here."

"I remember you," Prince Arthur said suddenly. "Teller, isn't it?"

"Aye, your Highness, it is," Teller nodded, barely containing an onslaught of tears. "I would of thought she'd just taken a walk, or got lost, you know. I had a search party out for her, but she wasn't to be found. And… and…" he began to cry.

"Fetch him some water," Prince Arthur commanded a nearby server. "Take your time," he said to the farmer, kindly.

Teller breathed slowly, gathering himself together. "This morning when I woke up, she was sitting in her rocking chair. But she weren't alive. She'd been killed—stabbed—and then during the night, someone put her… in her rocking chair…" Teller wiped his eyes, and accepted the full cup of water someone handed him.

Prince Arthur was troubled. Before he could reply, Gaius leaned close and whispered to him. Most likely updating him on his discover this morning—the two seemed eerily similar.

Prince Arthur took a shuddering breath. "Mr. Teller, I appreciate the speed in which you've brought this to my attention. You need not return to your farm, you may have a room here and recover. I will send a troop to collect her body and search for evidence."

"Thank-you, thank-you," Teller sobbed anew, and with the help of Sir Leon, he was helped from the room.

...

- The Courtyard –

I leaned against the pillar, stretching my feet before me. Merlin sat beside me, his legs going twice as far as mine.

"There has to be a connection," Merlin mused.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Teller after he left the room?" I asked.

"Yes, but I got very little from him," he sighed. "Only that his wife was a good person, and tried to heal the sick with herbal remedies, and she didn't deserve to go like that."

I winced. _How could I complain so, when there is real suffering in the world? _

"And the boy found this morning?" I asked. "Fjord? What kind of boy was he?"

"He aspired to be a physician, like Gaius," Merlin said. "His mother said that's why he didn't mind the cramped quarters next to the apothecary. The man was teaching him how to use medicine. In a few years, his mother said, he was going to ask Gaius if he could become his apprentice."

"So they both wanted to be healers," I said off-handedly, flicking a pebble across the flagstones.

"It's unfair for people with generous spirits to be the ones that suffer," Merlin said slowly.

I looked up at him, and was surprised to see his eyes full of tears.

"Hey, Merlin, it's alright," I said, surprised. _I do not know how to comfort someone. _I patted his arm awkwardly. "It wasn't your fault, just remember that. I wish I possessed your compassion."

Merlin sniffed heavily and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"Were all the bandits killed in the last scuffle?" I asked suddenly.

"Yes, why?" Merlin asked.

"Then who is hurt?" I asked. "Two healers die within three days. But they disappear first and are returned home. So the question is, who kidnapped a healer, returned them to their home, dead? And who kidnapped another, and returned them dead, again? Someone out there—someone must be sick, and the first one didn't make them better, so they found another willing person... Someone that wants to stay hidden, and will kill whomever finds out where they are. Someone who can't be moved. Otherwise they'd just seek help, wouldn't they?"

Merlin sat up suddenly. "It's Morgana. I know it is."

"Doesn't Morgana have magic, and heal herself?" I asked.

"It must be beyond Morgana's control," Merlin stood up, and helped me up too. "There is someone else who is hurt—someone she loves."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Morgause," Merlin said slowly, "I saw her fall, myself. It is her fall that finally made Morgana give up on Camelot. They fled together. Oh, Wren," Merlin leaned down and embraced me suddenly, "You're a wonder."

...

* * *

><p>...<p>

**I know, I know, no Gwaine in this chapter… but like I said, I'm not letting these singular minded romantics get in the way of my plot. Silly characters falling in love without my permission! We all know that I write adventure, not romance. Ah well! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Things will get quite exciting for awhile! **


	19. The Day

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Aw, you're all so sweet. Thanks for reviewing.**

**The SHADOW whisperer: **I am slightly confused! You say they're all complete Mary Sues, but you like it? Did you mean 'aren't'? I hope so. I wouldn't want it to be considered a Mary Sue fic… If you _do _mean they're all Mary Sues—by all means, please tell me what you'd like to see to change it. =)

**Merlinisawesome: **Alas, you'll just have to wait and see! I am so glad you're enjoying it.

**The Red Crayon: **I suppose you're right, romance is an adventure. And don't worry, Sir Leon will be more prominent later!

**StarryNight359: **Why, thank-you! Happy reading!

**ReadingRaven019: **Glad you enjoyed it, thank-you =)

**Softballgirl: **It was no trouble to write little episode reviews, I quite liked it.

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**Love to all, just keeping swimming and reviewing—much thanks to everyone!**

**Love,**

**Pip**

* * *

><p>…<p>

- The Servant's Hall –

...

I had naught to do on my day off, except rest or idly converse with Thea and Bit. None of which sounded particularly enticing to my mind; after all, the tension undercurrent in the kingdom was contagious—two possible murders, possibly by Morgana herself—what chance have I to partake in relaxation? My mind was racing with possibilities.

It seemed unlikely that I would hear from Merlin again today, he had taken my simple observations, turned them into an actual theory, and went to tell Arthur about it. I begged that I be left out of it, and play it off like it was his own idea. I had no idea what would be thought of a maid playing the part of an investigator.

So I wandered the castle, a bit aimlessly I suppose, but I did take care to avoid the royals' chambers and the halls most frequently used between the throne room, dining halls, and knights quarters. In a way, I was avoiding Gwaine too. What if our flirtation wasn't meant to last? I'd rather go out quietly than hear Gwaine say it. Perhaps his busyness in training had given him the time to think over how he felt about me. Perhaps he felt nothing at all…

I went back to the kitchens. It was a slow hour between late morning and noon. The servants hall was empty and the log table had no one sitting at it, except one solitary figure with slumped shoulders and blond hair.

The rest of the servants were in one of the other rooms, washing dishes, chatting amongst themselves, gossiping of the tragedies that they'd heard from so-and-so, who heard it from so-and-so, who heard it thus from a reliable source…

I thought about joining them and walked past the table—only to realize that the person seated at it was none other than the Prince.

"Your Highness!" I gasped. I hadn't recognized him without the mail and armor or fine red robes. He was in a simple brown tunic with absolutely nothing fancy about him.

"Shhh," he cringed, glancing back at the entrance.

"Are you hiding away, your Highness?" I whispered, standing nervously.

"More or less," Prince Arthur was sipping from a tankard. "Thinking, actually. I have to make a decision about recent events—this is the only place I found without someone leering over my shoulder."

"Begging your pardon, your Highness," I dropped down into my forgotten curtsy. "I'll leave you to it."

"No, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Prince Arthur waved his hand, frustrated. "I just meant, everyone is trying to advise me in one way for another, without even giving me a chance to think first."

"Have you had anything to eat, your Highness?" I asked, unsure of what else to say. "It isn't productive to think on an empty stomach."

"I haven't eaten anything since the feast last night," the Prince realized, with an eye roll. "I suppose that's what I get for telling my manservant to not wake me in the morning… it was straight from bed to a murder investigation… I shouldn't be talking about this," he said suddenly, sternly.

"Then don't, your Highness," I said curtly, pulling an apron off the wall hook and tying it around my waist. I pulled a potato out of a barrel and placed it in the iron rack hanging in the small fireplace. It wasn't really meant for cooking, but food and fire was in every room down here, and I figured, _I can see that the Prince has a small meal, now, can't I? It's the least I can do, since he did not behead me for fraternizing with a knight. _

"Here," I held out my hand. The Prince handed me his tankard. I emptied out the old cider and replaced it with fresh mead, softened by peppermint leaves. Curious, the Prince sniffed it, and drank slowly. "What'd you do to the mead?" he asked.

"Peppermint," I said. "A drunk prince won't do the kind of thinking he'd like to."

"Yes, yes, thinking…" the Prince sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I've had an offer to install an advisor. An offer from my uncle."

_I have nothing to offer on these subjects. _"That seems generous, your Highness."

"I may ask him to come live in Camelot," the Prince mused. "But what if my father dislikes having him here? After all, my uncle left not long after the death of…"

"Do not be offended, your Highness," I said quickly. "But perhaps it is best that you do not think aloud." I gestured to the other room. "Little pitchers have big ears."

"Oh! I remember you!" the Prince declared suddenly. "It's—um—Warna?"

"Wren, your Highness," I said, reaching into the bucket of romaine and rampion, freshly picked. I pulled them out, shook off the ladybugs, and plunged them into a bowl of vinegar oil.

Prince Arthur was looking at me with a curious, inspective look. "You were with Gwaine that morning on the green. Are you and he—uh—courting?"

"Your Highness, you must not feel obligated to make conversation," I said tersely. "If you came down here to think—then, by all means, think. I'm simply making you a bit of lunch."

"You're avoiding my question!" the Prince accused with a disbelieving grin.

"Not purposefully, your Highness," I hesitated. _The last thing you do is make a noble angry, Wren! Don't you know any better? _

I rushed over to the fire and stabbed the potato with a fork, putting it onto an old platter I found in the cupboards. While it steamed, I opened it up, poured some freshly churned butter over the top, and added the pile of glistening greens from the oil bowl.

"So you, uh, you're a cook down here?" the Prince said, after the silence had grown just a second too long.

"No, a kitchen maid. I scrub things," I said simply, pushing the platter across the log table towards him. Then I handed him the fork.

"Merlin tells me that you had some theories about the murders," the Prince said, holding the fork loosely.

"I told him not to bring me into it," I declared.

"But I think you're right," the Prince replied. "Don't worry, you won't be involved. It was a good idea. I'm sending the knights to investigate…" he watched me for my reaction.

I had no reaction to share. "The sooner the matter can be resolved, the better," I said slowly. "I'm sure Camelot is in good hands."

Prince Arthur tried the potato. He smiled and nodded as he chewed. Swallowing, he said politely, "This is very good."

"It's filling," I said, "It will last you till a proper meal."

"I'm sending the knights out this afternoon, around tea-time," the Prince kept on, clearly hinting at something, but I did not know what. "To the home of Teller, the man whose wife was killed."

"I'm no gossip, your Highness," I said confusedly, "But are you sure you should be sharing that information? We could be overheard. I trust everyone in these quarters, but I'm just saying…"

"I know what you're saying," the Prince said, with a full mouth, as if we were old friends meeting up for a supper at a tavern. "I just thought you might be interested. The knights are working in the armory till we leave. It's, you know, near the stables. They're preparing their armor and their horses and all that… stuff."

I tilted my head curiously. "Is there a message you need delivered…?"

"Precisely!" the Prince was making all of this up on the spot. "Please tell—uh—Sir Gwaine that he should not forget that the barb horse is lame in one foot. Tell him to take the little brown palfrey."

I bit my lip, put my hands on my hips and called upon every ounce of self-control I possessed to not make a biting remark in return.

"Your Highness," I said, with teeth clenched, "I will deliver your message."

"Thank-you," said the Prince smartly. "And thank-you for the meal. It was really very kind of you."

I untied my apron and replaced it on the wall, feeling resigned to this strange personality of the friendly, yet stubborn and infuriating prince.

"You are welcome, your Highness," I said, with another curtsy. Then exited, listening to the sounds of the Prince snicker in his tankard of mead.

…

- The Stables -

...

_The brown palfrey, not the barb_, I repeated to myself. I knew very little of horses, except that I found them fiercely beautiful and relatable in their stubbornness and champing at the bits. I'd never before ridden, or even touched one.

The stable smelled of saddle oils, fresh alfalfa, oats, honey, manure and the soft coats of the royal horses. I supposed the stables in the lower towns smelled much different, but with servants to clean out the stables every morning, it was surprisingly clean and did not reek of foulness like I supposed it would. In the royal stables, it is only for fine horses. The swine, cows, goats and fowl are kept elsewhere.

In each stall, a different knight was brushing a horse, polishing a saddle, or some other preparation. Sir Leon—still wearing mail—(I'd yet to ever see him without it!) approached me. I still felt incredibly overwhelmed by his height. The man had to have giant blood in his veins…

"Can I help you, Madam?" Sir Leon said politely. _This is the second time he's called me Madam, _I thought with a mental smile. _Station or not—that's a real knight and no mistake. _It seemed unfair to let him call me madam, and to tell Gwaine not to say 'm'lady'. But it was different—I did not want Gwaine to put me on a pedestal I didn't deserve. Sir Leon's greeting seemed to stem directly from his respectful heart. Sir Leon considered himself a servant of the crown as much as I considered myself a servant in a kitchen.

"Yes, thank-you," I said, "I have a message for Sir Gwaine from the Prince."

"He's in the back," Sir Leon pointed at the last stall in the line. He was smiling, just a little bit.

"Thank-you," I curtseyed and held my skirt, so that the hem was not getting caught in the straw on the floor. Feeling suddenly nervous, I peeked into the last stall.

Gwaine was down on the floor, holding one of the horse's hooves in his hand, trying to pick out dried mud from the bottom of it.

"Hold still, you hellion," Gwaine let out a stream of other mild curses.

"Ahem," I said.

Gwaine dropped the hoof and straightened up, whirling around with the _prepare to apologize to royalty _expression. His face instantly changed to one of surprise and relief.

"You!" he exclaimed, stepping towards me.

"Uh, I have a message, from the Prince," I said quickly. "He said—for me—to tell you—uh—to use the barb—wait, to _not _use the barb. It's lame in the foot—er, hoof. He said foot, not I. He said to use the brown palfrey instead."

Gwaine grinned devilishly. "He already told me that."

"He… did?" I faltered.

"You know, if you wanted an excuse to come see me, you didn't have to make it up…" Gwaine patted the horse beside him absently. It was the brown palfrey, and I didn't even notice.

"I didn't make it up!" I exclaimed. "He told me to tell you. I swear it. Perhaps he forgot."

"Maybe," Gwaine drawled.

"The wind can blow east and west," I replied snarkily, "I could, as easily, ask you why I have not seen you since last week."

"I was busy training," Gwaine said, with a thoughtful look.

"So I've been told."

"Why ask me then, eh?"

"Tell me about it," I said, genuinely interested. "How was it? All the… training."

"Tiring, rough, busy," Gwaine said slowly, stepping closer to me. "Difficult. Long," he was close enough, and I could smell the dirt on his armor. "Lonely."

"Lonely?" I repeated. "You're hardly alone."

"All those hairy, smelly knights? Not really appealing,"

Sir Percival's head popped over the short wall that separated the horses. "I think you mean: bearded and carrying the scent of victory."

"Perc, my conversation, my life, my stall. Keep your nose out," Gwaine said.

Sir Percival disappeared again, chuckling.

"It's a shame you have to go out again so soon," I said mildly.

"Not for awhile yet," Gwaine kicked a small horse-tail brush out of the way, and flipped his long, unruly hair from his face. "Shall we take a walk, you and I?"

I agreed, and he offered me his arm, like the day in the market. We walked out of the stable, and I was aware of every eye upon us. And just as we passed from under it's shadow into the light of the courtyard, I heard conversation hum to life.

"I wonder if he is sincere," said Sir Leon's voice.

"Who knows?" Sir Percival's voice. "He's always been sort of detached, hasn't he?"

"Let us give him the benefit of the doubt," Sir Lancelot urged. "It is obvious that he likes her. It is not our place to interfere."

"Ah, Sir Leon," Gwaine said, with a sigh. "Always quick to doubt my honor."

"What gives them reason to doubt it?" I asked.

"I'm the loose thread. I never wanted to be a knight. But I wanted to help Arthur—and—it just sort of happened."

"You preferred being a dashing renegade?"

"Saving damsels in distress and slaying usurpers wasn't really my thing. I was a sword for hire. Got mixed up in some bad company, fought for the sport of bandit lords and their ruffians. Drank away the emptiness and the guilt I felt for it."

I was surprised by his honesty. "And now that you're in good company?"

"I feel like I'm not one of them. It's only a title. I keep comparing myself to Lancelot and Leon and finding that my _knighthood _is a lie."

"But you are not a bad person," I said slowly. "If all the sort-of good people in the world waited to be perfect before joining a worthy battle, we'd be devoid of soldiers and carry the weight of half-hearted, lukewarm souls."

Gwaine's boots against the courtyard stones were clicking steadily, and then slowed. We stopped near the gate to the bridge over the moat. He was avoiding my eyes.

"You don't have to be pure hearted and stainless," I added, "You have to _want _to be good, and work for it. Even if it feels difficult, or if you feel like you don't measure up. That is what sets you apart. So the attitude of a perfect knight was not drummed into your head—so what? It makes you stronger, because you're the only one who has to _choose—_on a daily basis—to act with honor. You don't come by it naturally, and do it regardless. That is the sign of a true knight…" I paused, embarrassed. "Or at least, to my limited knowledge."

Gwaine snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me in, close. Our foreheads nearly pressed together, our noses were a hair's breadth from touching. If I simply tilted my head—I could easily kiss him. But I did not.

"Why are you so easy to talk to?" Gwaine asked, cheekbones betraying his deep smile. "You're like a thought—did you know that? A thought that just gets under my skin. You're constantly there."

"It's because I talk too much," I replied hoarsely. _Just a head tilt, to the right…_

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," Gwaine said slowly. "When I was training, I felt like I was fighting you. When I was asleep, you were the first face that came to mind when I woke up. When I relaxed with an ale at the end of the day, I was drinking to your health. Isn't that odd, now?"

"Very odd," I felt one of his hands on the back of my head, almost tangled in my hair. Tilting my head…

And then the bells rang loudly—it wasn't on the hour mark. They were alarum bells.

We pulled apart, and I sighed with relief, fear, and disappointment.

"What the hell is going on?" Gwaine snapped, turning and looking down the bridge. There were voices coming down from the Lower Town, voices that were shouting. They did not sound panicked, only alert.

"I'll find out," I said, squeezing his arm. "I know you have a lot to do. I'll find you in the stables, and…"

Gwaine was looking at me, eye squinted and mouth set in a grim line. "I guess this is one of those moments."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a duty to uphold," he said, "I'll report to Sir Leon. And you get to have all the fun, eh?" He was shaking his head and returning to his age-old smile. He lifted his hand slowly, trailing a finger along my hairline, and tucking a long strand behind one ear. "See you in a few minutes?"

My whole stomach seemed to flip over on end. "Yes," I promised, trotting away quickly.

…

-The Lower Town –

...

I followed the sounds of the crowd. Regular day-guards were forming a line and jogging past me. There was a commotion—a group of people gathering—I managed to sneak around them, creep up between the Rising Sun and another building.

I spotted Evoric.

"Wren!" he greeted loudly, rushing up, and grasping my hand in his own. He shook it firmly. "It's so good t' see ya! So good. Ye don' even know. It does m' old heart a good'n."

"I am so pleased to see you," I responded fervently. "What's going on?"

Evoric looked back at the crowd. They were gathering around a lump in the road, something rather large, mud-covered. Gruesomely covered with stains, like dry blood.

"That's what's left of th' local cartmaker," Evoric said empathically. "There was this dust-devil—like a big ol' dirt spout, all full o' ribbons an' strips of tree bark. Then there was this big ol' cloaked figure—spoke like a woman, it did. Said to those who stood nearby—_Thank-you for allowin' me to borrow yer tradesman. _An' dumped this body, then the devil whirled about, an' the cloak woman was gone. That bloody mess is all that's left."

"Morgana," I guessed. "It has to be. There was once a witch about four years ago that could transport herself in that same way."

"Bloody hell," Evoric said, "I ne'er thought Uther's daughter could do somethin' like that!"

"What would she need a cart for?" I mused.

"Naw, naw, it's the cart's man, I said."

"I know. But why kill a cartmaker, unless she no longer needed him to make a cart?"

"How d' we know he was makin' her a cart?"

"It's a theory…"

"But why would she need a cart? She's a sorceress, ain't she? If she can travel in clouds, er whatnot, why not conjure a cart?"

"Maybe she's living primitively," I said, "Conjure herself from place to place, maybe. But a cart could carry someone who couldn't do that anymore."

"What ar' ya on about, Wren? They treatin' y' right up there?"

"Of course, Evoric, it's been wonderful. I am pleased that you sent me back to the palace—but—I've got to find Merlin."

"What, the boy y' hate?"

"I've got a lot to explain… just not now. Soon. I've got to go."

I turned and walked hurriedly back up the road. _Sorry, Gwaine, _I thought sadly,_ you'll have to wait a little longer for your news… I think this needs to go to Merlin and the Prince._

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><p><strong>Thank-you all so much for reading. Please tell me what you think! =)<strong>


	20. Afternoon Tea

**Reviewer Replies!**

**Merlinisawesome: **I'm glad you feel as if you are there, that is a huge compliment. Yes that bell was terribly interruptive, wasn't it? I was literally cackling evilly when I wrote it…

**softballgirl: **I'd better keep a close eye on Wren and Gwaine, then! Naughty… I am so flattered that you feel like you're in Camelot. I was hoping to evoke the atmosphere of a real place.

**The Red Crayon: **I am so glad you liked the knights' personalities, I am trying to stay in tune with their characters, since I am taking romantic liberties with Gwaine.

**Magpie of Silver: **Aw, thank-you so much!

**Rawr52: **I love Percival too, I don't think he got nearly enough screen time in series 4!

**StarryNight359: **One of my favorite things about Arthur, his smugness when he really shouldn't be smug about it… hehe

**ReadingRaven019: **I'm super excited to get into series 4, but I'm really trying to take my time and flesh out the year between 3 and 4—I feel like many important things happened that I'd like to write about!

**Reverie Indigo: **Ooh, I love your penname! Also thank-you so much for your thoughts. I agree about adding oneself into every character, but not to the point of being a Mary-Sue. For example, I will never write from the perspective of a tall person—because I cannot imagine what it is like to be tall! Therefore, all my first-person OCs are always short. =)

**Alaia Skyhawk: **Thank-you, I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

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><p><strong>If you go to the Pippin Strange facebook page, you'll find the link for a "soundtrack" I made for this story on youtube. It's a lot of fun and I had a great time choosing each song carefully. Songs will be added as the story progresses.<strong>

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><p>...<p>

The Throne Room –

I didn't belong here; I felt it the moment I entered the room. Fortunately, it was too crowded with courtiers for me to be noticed by Prince Arthur. I could see he enjoyed his meal, for he did not have that gray look of exhaustion and dejection hanging about him. He did look at the end of his rope about something, but with that frustration came a resolve, not the helplessness he seemed to exude before. Merlin stood next to him, and he was talking to the Prince in a very quiet, serious tone. The room was humming with panicked gossip. I tried to focus on what was being said.

"They are saying Morgana was spotted in the Lower Town, having used magic to will herself away in smoke," Merlin seemed to be saying. "It may not be safe for you to…"

"I can bloody well go where I like," the Prince replied harshly, adding a few more phrases I did not catch. "Can anyone actually confirm this…? What she said?"

"Someone thought it'd be clever to ring the bells without alerting the proper…"

Taking a deep breath, I said loudly, "Your Highness, if I may be permitted to…"

Suddenly, a hand snaked out from the crowd and grasped my forearm, hard. I hissed and tried to pull away, looking into the cold eyes of the Lady Deanna.

I hadn't seen her since she bloodied up my head, and the suddenness of her clutches shocked me, and brought back an entire wealth of feelings—of fear, of submission—that I hadn't felt for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Lady Deanna hissed. "You're not supposed to be in here!"

Before I could reply, the crowd had began to shuffle aside, and the Prince held up a commanding hand. "She may come forward," he said, not in a protective way, but with authority that demanded obedience. "What do you know?"

Lady Deanna's head swiveled like a snake, from the throne, to me. I was tugging at my arm, and she released me with a disgusted sniff.

Ignoring the marks from her fingers that would probably appear, I approached the throne with care, dropping into a curtsy.

"Speak, Wren," said the Prince.

"I have just spoken to Evoric, the owner of the Rising Sun," I began. This prompted a few, haughty judgments from the courtiers—perhaps they liked to pretend the tavern didn't serve the same drinks they consumed at banquets every evening. "He said that he saw a cloaked figure with the voice of a woman. She materialized in the middle of the road, in a pillar of smoke—like a dirt devil, full of ribbons and strips of tree bark. The voice said—'Thank-you for allowing me to borrow your tradesman'. She dumped a bloodied body onto the street. The body was the local cart-maker."

The room had fallen into a silence. It was not a respectful silence, but expectant.

"Sire," I finished, trying to speak quietly and with care. "If you remember the conversation I had with your manservant earlier, we might suspect that the sick person we spoke of has needs of a transport, and the cart-maker of Camelot provided this and lost his life for it."

The room was humming again—they didn't know about our private suspicions.

Prince Arthur was nodding, he remembered. He nodded to the courtiers in the room and said briskly, "Leave us." Disappointed, they began to shuffle out. I felt Lady Deanna's stare, and was relieved that she no longer had the power to punish me.

For the first time—though a plain kitchen maid—I felt I could be more of a help to our monarchy, and if not gain any respect from the nobles, (I did not want their respect, or any attention, actually) at least gain respect from Merlin—whom, I'm sure, respected me very little for the way I treated him. I turned to join the crowd, but Merlin's voice stopped me.

"Hey, Wren," he loped up, falling into step beside me. "I'm beginning to think you're nosier than I am."

"You, nosy?" I asked.

"Horribly. But you seem to go about it the wrong way. You approach the prince for an audience—you should try spying around at night and getting into trouble, instead!"

I realized he was joking. "And that is what you do, I suppose?"

"Daily."

I laughed. "I am meeting Gwaine in the stable, I promised."

"I won't hold you up. Thanks for telling Arthur and being brave enough to say something…"

"After my superb lunch, he owed me," I said lightly. "Goodbye for now, Merlin."

"Heh heh—wait, lunch…? What lunch?"

...

- The Stables –

The stalls were empty, and the stable was quiet. Feeling all my recent energy drain, I walked in dejectedly. I went to the last stall, where Gwaine had been working. There was a small wooden stool inside, and placed on top, a small piece of paper held down by a tail comb.

I picked up the paper and unfolded it.

_Wren:_

_Due to the circumstances, we've left early, and a page told me what you would have told me anyhow, so I won't die of curiosity. Suffice to say I just don't plan on dying anytime soon, so don't worry while I'm gone. The farm is not three miles from here, I'll be back soon. I don't suppose I can persuade you to join me at the tavern tonight for supper? I'm sick of sitting in that grand hall, and I'd much prefer if you willingly joined me, but kidnapping will do as well._

_Sincerely, _

_Sir Gwaine _

My face was suddenly wearing a Gwaine-ish grin. I held the note close and laughed outright, loudly and without any kind of apology. Then I checked myself, in a kind of shocked delight. I was laughing without abandon, but the sad part was, I couldn't think of the last time I had done that.

...

-Afternoon Tea –

"And you're going to go like that?" Bit said, staring across the table at me.

I looked down at my gray maids dress, and shrugged. "I'll take off my apron?"

"How scandalous," Thea said inside her tea.

"And I'll take off my cap," I added stoutly.

"What a Delilah you are," Thea said sarcastically.

"Who is a Delilah?" said a suspicious voice. Evoric's wife, Ella, was standing at the doorway to the Servant's Hall. She was wiping her hands on a towel, her eyebrows knotted in that parental way.

"It's nothing," Bit said quickly, afraid that—Ella being one of the senior cooks—would accuse us of misbehaviors to Mrs. Stewart.

"You don't have to lie to her," I whispered quickly.

"Come, come! I'll naught 'ave this whisperin'," Ella finished with the towel, tossed it into the rag basket, and sat heavily down at the table with us.

Thea and Bit knew Ella simply as another cook with raucous laughter and the tendency to use wooden spoons as a weapon. I was rarely able to spend any time with her, but always felt grateful to her for the times she cared for me during the two months I worked at the tavern.

I wordlessly handed her Gwaine's note. She squinted at it, held it far away, then brought it right to the tip of her nose. Her cheekbones nearly exploded with the loud laughter that followed.

"That was my reaction," I said with a frown.

"You won't tell Mrs. Stewart, will you?" Bit pleaded.

"Mrs. Stewart is a cranky ol' bat," Ella's face was red as she chuckled. She handed the note back to me. "And I'd never turn in the daughter of a man whose brother was my husband's friend."

Bit began to mentally try and figure that out. Thea laced her fingers together and said practically, "Well, seeing as you're at least a romantic in some way, you may join us in advising Wren on what she shall wear."

"Just what yer wearin'," Ella declared. "Don't git fancy. This "sir" Gwaine is like a child of nine when it comes to stealin' the food I make. Ya met 'im at our tavern, for Lor's sake."

"You disapprove?" I asked, more sorrowfully than I meant to reveal.

"Course not!" Ella exclaimed. "Of all of 'em, he's the one like th' best. Remember what I tol' ya before, that first time we 'ad ya over for dinner?"

"I think…" I tried to recall the first time, the first of many dinners with Evoric and Ella. _Like dinner with a family._ With a pang, I realized I was homesick for the tavern work—but it was only my second week in the palace kitchens. _Perhaps I will come to consider this a home, too. _

"I says—these are dark times, and it's no bad thing to 'ave a hand to hold," Ella reminded me. "Er, somethin' like that."

"I remember," I said clearly, "I've… I've tried to make friends."

"Succeeded in some cases," Thea grinned, giving me a playful poke in the arm.

"M' point is," Ella stated, "If Gwaine is offerin' his hand, so to speak, take it. Just don't give 'im a gloved hand, a hand w' lotsa jewels an' rings, or soft idle hands. Give 'im your own hand—rough, hardworkin'…" she looked down at my hand, jokingly. "An' quite small."

"So just be yourself," translated Bit, as if I needed help with Ella's metaphors.

"I still think you could borrow my dress for Saints' Day," Thea muttered.

There was a clatter on the stairs, and a quick, "Sorry!" the clatter continued, stair by stair, till Merlin appeared at the door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he said quickly, his eyes darting to me. His face was a mask, but his eyes looked urgent.

"No trouble," Ella huffed. "I was jist leavin'!" she patted my arm, and waddled out of the room.

"Bye Ella," us three girls chimed together, me somewhat less cheerful than the other to. I was now feeling worry nag at the back of my mind. Why would Merlin seek me out, unless…

I turned to Merlin, shoving the feelings away. "Is there something wrong, Merlin?"

He glanced at Thea and Bit, and grimaced. "Uh—well, not—can I speak to you in private?"

"Yes," I said, I gave Thea and Bit an apologetic look. "I'll catch up with you later," I promised, ignoring the feeling of dread and apprehension. Merlin turned, and I trotted after him, till we reached the upper hall.

"What's going on?" I said, at the top of the stairs.

Merlin glanced around for eavesdroppers before beginning. "The knights were supposed to come back an hour ago. No one has heard from them. No one has seen them near Teller's farm or on the road."

"What do you think happened?" my voice was shaky, but I resolved to not panic. There had to be a logical explanation. A detour, or following a lead, perhaps?

"Arthur isn't sure, but he is wanting to wait it out. If they don't return tonight, we'll send a scouting party out. I thought you should know."

"Wait till tomorrow…?" I said, not liking the sound of it. I suddenly remembered my dreams, and shuddered.

"I don't like it either," Merlin said, eyeing me.

"What if something happens between then and now?" I said, "If there is something wrong, waiting will only make it worse. Why the delay?"

Merlin seemed uncomfortable. "There's someone new arriving in Camelot tonight. Arthur must be here to greet him. He doesn't—well, he doesn't want there to appear to be anything wrong unless absolutely necessary."

"His uncle?" I guessed.

"His name is Agravaine," Merlin said with a slightly disapproving tone. "He made a decision with the recent events—he is due to arrive tonight. Arthur must be here to greet him. He has released me from duty for the rest of the evening."

"Oh," I said shortly. "Then the knights must fend for themselves. I'm sure there capable…"

"What if there is more going on?" Merlin pressed.

"Are you suggesting WE do something about it?" I exclaimed. "What could we do?"

"It's not three miles from here."

"True…"

"We could be there and back before we work tomorrow."

"Are you suggesting…"

"Going for a ride? Yes." Merlin looked around again. "What do you think? We may figure out what's going on."

I didn't think. If I thought about it, I'd be wise, and say no. But I did not want to be wise. I wanted to get out of Camelot for awhile. I wanted to do something reckless. I wanted to see Gwaine, and see him safe.

"I'll do it. Let's go."

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	21. The Search

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Thank-you all so much for your lovely reviews! You are all awesome. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. There are some intricate plot-details that are beginning to arise, and I am screaming internally with excitement about the next twists and turns… it'll get a wee bit darker and intense before it gets better ;)**

**Love, Pip**

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><p>-The Stables –<p>

Merlin was saddling a horse. Dark brown, and rather plain, planting its' hooves with a nervous step. Its' nostrils flared briefly, before it nudged Merlin in the arm. He responded by patting its' neck with a loud smack, muttering some kind, soft-toned words.

"I have never ridden before," I confessed in the silence.

"That's alright, we'll ride double. I won't force you to learn to ride tonight. We'll save that for another time, when we're not so worried, eh?" Merlin smiled. "I'd be happy to teach you how to ride sometime. That is, if Gwaine doesn't mind."

I didn't like the idea of permission needing to be granted. "Gwaine doesn't own me," I said shortly. "And him being a knight, he'd most likely have to _request _to teach me."

"Wouldn't you _like _Gwaine to teach you?" Merlin asked, confused.

For a moment, I pictured Gwaine behind me on a horse, arms around my waist, guiding my hands with the reigns. It wouldn't be terrible, I suppose.

"Maybe," I said slowly, "But perhaps its just better for one servant to teach another. I'd—rather surprise him."

"Now, that I understand," Merlin nodded. "We'll surprise him one day when you can ride rings around him. But one thing at a time." He placed his foot in the stirrup, pushed off the flooring, and threw his left leg over the saddle. He was perfectly mounted without batting an eye!

I looked up to the horse's tall back, and felt nervous.

"Come on," Merlin held out his hand. I grasped it tightly, tried to jump, and failed. I was mortified when I came back heavily on the straw bed, both feet firmly planted. How does one get so high?

"Try this," Merlin laughed, slipped his foot out of the stirrup. "Put your right foot in that." I followed his instruction. The horse shifted and stamped a hoof, but remained standing in place. I was relieved that he picked a well-tamed one.

"Now take my hand again?" I took it. "I'm going to pull, and you're going to push off with the foot in the stirrup. On three. One, two, three!" He jerked my arm upwards, I pushed into the stirrup as if it were a ladder rung, and found myself finally high enough to throw my left leg over the horses' rump.

"There, that was easy enough," Merlin said. "Now, put your arms 'round my waist, and hang on tightly. All right, then?"

"All right, then!" I responded, cheerfully terrified.

...

-The Road –

We rode quietly for time, hearing nothing but the heavy beat of the horse's plodding out of town. Often enough, I didn't feel much like speaking, but spending so much time with Thea and Bit was causing me to start conversations more often. I wasn't sure if I liked breaking silences.

Eventually Merlin spoke up, and I didn't have to. "Have you been out of Camelot before?"

"Not very much," I replied, "Just with the girls, on my days off. Just outside of the gate and no farther. I've never really been out of sight of the castle."

"So this must be exciting, then?"

"I'll save my excitement if we find… them. What about you? As Arthur's manservant you must get to go out quite a bit."

Merlin grinned a little to himself. "I've traveled all over Albion. From the Perilous lands to the valley of the Fallen Kings, to the dryads camps and the Isle of the Blessed."

I'd never heard of any of these places, except what was briefly mentioned in speeches of the King. I almost regretted tuning out King Uther's announcements about lands beyond the realm now, otherwise I should have _some _context to the queer names.

"Actually, some of those places I just mentioned—it's a secret," Merlin said hastily. "I've sworn never to speak about going to some of them."

"You've done a fabulous job," I said dryly. "Remind me to never tell you secrets."

"I'm usually very good about keeping secrets."

"Oh it's too late now, Merlin. I know you've got a slippery tongue. I shall never tell you a secret."

Merlin knew I was teasing him, but his shoulders slumped a little, regardless.

"Oh, very well," I gave in a little. "I shall tell you a very small secret sometime."

He brightened. "Excellent!"

I hesitated. "I don't want to bend the rules of your secret-keeping—but may I ask _why _you've traveled so much?"

"Well, I'm usually accompanying Prince Arthur. With everything. And originally, I came from Ealdor."

I was shocked. "You're not from Albion?"

"I was born in Ealdor and came to Camelot a few years ago to work with Gaius."

"How did you come to be a manservant for _the prince _if you're from Cenred's kingdom?"

"I saved Prince Arthur's life."

"You never cease to surprise me."

"In what way?"

"I thought you and Prince Arthur were so close since you'd been lifelong companions. I thought you were given special favors _because_ you were the best of friends."

"Ah! And another truth comes to light," Merlin declared. "You thought I was getting special treatment."

"Well, you were."

"Admittedly, sort of. But for different reasons. Does this change your opinion of me?"

"It's been changed. And it's still changing."

"Hm—the manservant who gets to do what he wants—that doesn't really sound like me."

"It sounds so silly now."

"No wonder you didn't like me, Wren."

"Don't try and excuse my behavior," I snapped, "What's done is done. I was mistaken about you. Let's move on, shall we?"

A long pause followed. I felt so awkward, but Merlin wasn't affected by my outburst.

"I know you're worried about Gwaine," he said slowly.

"It's nearly nightfall. They are hours past due. What could have possibly happened?"

"Do you want to hear my theory?"

"Please."

"Obviously Morgana—if it is her—returned Teller's wife's body. They picked up her trail and found it necessary to pursue, rather than risk losing her in the woods."

"I don't understand why the Lady Morgana would come so close to Camelot."

"She needs something. She needs a healer and a cart. She's only getting close to Camelot so that she can leave and get farther away. She needs to transport Morgause somewhere else. Your idea, not mine."

"But is there really nowhere else she could have access to a healer or a cart-maker?

"She wouldn't go as far as Caerleon or Essetir. It tells us this much: she's been hiding near Camelot for a long time. Perhaps even in these woods."

I shivered. "And she has access to whatever she needs—as long as she can abduct innocent people to do things for her."

"She's getting impatient and making mistakes. This is the first time we've had three disappearances and murders all together. Something is happening."

"She is executing some dastardly plan," I bemoaned. "And all this time that she's been planning, she's been hiding near Camelot."

"But I think by discovering her plans, we've delayed them," Merlin added. "We may not see the fruition of what she wants till later."

"So all of this might be for nothing?"

"I think we've driven her back into hiding."

"You don't think she's on the run?"

"Not with Morgause in tow. She'll use the cart when it isn't suspicious."

"You're bloody smart, Merlin," I exclaimed, without really thinking about it.

Merlin laughed. "Thank-you, Wren!"

"How far to Teller's farm?"

"About a half-mile now. We'll get off the road soon and cross a creek. His cottage is located in a little copse near the wheat fields."

...

-Teller's Cottage –

"Teller won't be here," Merlin said, "He's staying in Camelot tonight—so—"

"We can search for the knights unhindered," I said quickly. I looked up to the falling sun, noting that dusk was coming quickly. As the year waned, so did the hours of light.

The horse plodded to a halt. We crossed the creek with a mere splash, and came through the plain road between two wide fields. In the failing light, the wheat looked like a sea of gold. But at the end, shadows fell from the tall trees, and the cottage was hidden amongst them.

"Let me go first," Merlin said darkly. "Let me just check the yard. If it's clear, we'll search the outer area together."

"Why just you? I worked in a tavern, you know."

"Because magic is dangerous," Merlin said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "If Morgana is here somewhere—I'd rather meet her first."

"You haven't got any weapons," I noted. "Take a stick or something."

"I'm stealthy," Merlin promised, dismounting. He looked up at me and held out his arms. "Help?"

"No!" I exclaimed, feeling slightly dizzy at the height of the horse without Merlin's back blocking my view. I swung my leg over and slid from the saddle, cringing when my feet hit the ground, hard. "I mean," I repeated, "No, thank-you."

"Hold the reigns, the horse won't move if you tug on them and say 'whoa'," Merlin handed me the ropes. With a nod, he turned and disappeared among the trees.

Absently patting the horse's nose, I watched Merlin's shadow flit among the yard, examining the trees, walking around the corners of the cottage, looking in the windows, disappearing into a small stable and finally returning to my side.

"Nothing, then," I said with a heavy heart.

"No sign of any_one_," Merlin said. "But the knights' horses are in the stable. They must be nearby. We shall search the woods together."

He took the reigns and tied the horse to the post, producing an apple from his pocket to keep it occupied. I marched to a nearby stump, and pulled a forgotten axe that was embedded in it.

"Wow," Merlin said. "Planning a massacre?"

I glared at him. "You've got your stealthiness, I've got an axe. We're even."

"Looks heavy," Merlin snickered.

It was heavy, but I was frightened enough to accept Merlin's teasing and put up with it.

Part of me expected all the knights to be in Teller's cabin, having some kind of meeting that kept them late. But as they were not nearby, it meant searching the woods—I'd never searched woods before. I had no reason to fear animals before this day. But I had no clue what could possibly be awaiting us.

...

-The Search –

The twilight had settled in a hazy, violet light. Stepping under the branches, we soon lost sight of Teller's cabin. There was nothing to see except the trunks of the pines, the shrubs, the fallen branches. We were silent.

"Do you see it?"

"What, Merlin?" I asked.

"I didn't say anything," Merlin whirled and looked at me, a queer expression in his eyes. "Didn't you say something?"

I suddenly felt like vomiting. "You heard that, too?"

"Someone is here," Merlin held out a hand defensively, walking in a small circle. There was nothing around us—nothing but green pines and a breeze.

"Don't you want to see it?" said the voice again.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"No," Merlin stood close by me. "What did it say?"

"Come and see," said the voice.

"See—see—what?" my teeth chattered with fear. There seemed to be no source from which the voice came. It wasn't to our right or left. It was hovering, near our faces. Within reach—invisible.

"My kingdom," said the voice.

"No," I whispered. "This can't be happening. This isn't real. It's not real. It's my dream. It isn't real."

"Wren!" Merlin exclaimed. "This isn't a dream. What did it say?"

"It—it—said—come and see—the kingdom—" I couldn't tell if I was breathing too much, or had no air at all. Fear seemed to well up so deeply from inside of me, from the darkest place I didn't know existed. It made my skin feel prickly.

"It's okay, Wren," Merlin said, reassuringly. "It's okay. Calm down. Did you feel that presence?"

I gulped, and nodded. I still felt a presence. It was strong. It smelled like a calm before a lightening storm. It made me feel sick.

"I felt it too," Merlin said, "But it has passed. Whatever it was—it's not here anymore."

"I still feel something," I said, feeling very cold. "Why could I hear her?"

"Her?" Merlin asked slowly.

"It was a woman's voice. Didn't you hear it?"

"I heard _something _at first. I thought it was you."

I realized that I was clutching Merlin's arms. Being so easy going and nonplussed about it, he just patted my hands and repeated, "It's okay, Wren. Take a deep breath. There's magic at work here—it's certain now. That means we know what we're facing."

I tried to see it from his perspective, but I couldn't. How could I possibly dream something before it happened? I didn't know what I was facing. At all.

"I've decided to tell you a secret," I said slowly.

"Oh?" Merlin looked very interested, indeed. His eyes seemed to glow with curiosity.

"I've been having weird nightmares," I looked around at the darkening forest, distrusting the branches as they leered about like disembodied limbs. "And I dreamed this. A few nights ago."

Merlin seemed to take this very seriously. "You dreamed about this voice in the woods?"

"Yes. Saying those exact words. Don't you dare tell anyone."

"I won't tell," Merlin promised. "But this is… curious."

"I'm afraid someone will think I'm like Morgana. But I don't have magic."

"I know you don't, Wren. Don't worry."

"But I swear I've dreamed of this. You believe me?"

"Yes."

"And you won't tell?"

"Never!" Merlin glanced off into the distance, thoughtfully. "And then what happened?"

"Then I…" I trailed off in horror. "Then I found them…the bodies. In another dream, it was him. It was variations of the same. But no screams. Only quiet. But I held him. If the first part came true, maybe the second is true as well!"

"Found who?"

Before thinking clearly, I rushed off in no particular direction. I broke through the trees and began to search a clearing—nothing. Merlin followed, wordlessly. I ran to and fro, finding nothing. Rocks, branches, grasses, trunks, undergrowth, ivy… everything was in its place. Nothing unusual. Over the edge of a miniature stream, I stepped carefully over it, running up and down the bank. Nothing, again, over and over again.

"Wren, let's go back," came Merlin's voice. "We should tell Arthur what we heard. He'll need to know how steeped this mystery is in magic."

I turned, and began to walk back. Around a tree trunk, attempting to step over a large root.

The root moaned, and I gasped in surprise, dropping my axe beside me.

"Merlin, Merlin!" I screamed. "I found them! I found them!"

I dropped to my knees. It was Gwaine, crumpled up inside his armor, so covered in dirt and matted blood that he looked to be a part of the forest. And when I looked beyond him—there were others, the same as him, littering the woods like rubbish thrown into the garden. Just like my dream. There was blood on their foreheads, coming from their jaws, bruises along their necks and chins. They'd all been on the receiving end of a good beating—but they were all beginning to stir at the sound of my screams. As far as I could tell, no one was dead. I let Merlin see to them—he arrived, and began to check for the pulses.

I was trying to awaken Gwaine.

"Please wake up," I said softly, brushing his brown hair away from his face. He moaned a second time, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, they were unseeing. As it came into focus, he let out a surprised cough, and looked into my eyes.

"What a fine thing to wake up to," Gwaine said hoarsely.

"Oh, hush," I scolded, running my fingers through his hair still. "Can you tell me what happened?" I glanced across the clearing. Sir Leon was sitting up, blinking owlishly. Merlin was tapping Percival's shoulder. Lancelot was already trying to walk and help awaken the others.

"Uh…" Gwaine widened his eyes, squinted, and widened them again.

"Blurry?" I asked.

"Feels like a bad hangover."

"Let me help you up," I took his gloved hand and helped him sit up slowly. He shook his head and put his hand to his forehead, where a dark bruise had formed.

"Got to the cabin," Gwaine said shortly, wincing as he found another bruise on the back of his head. "Went inside to get the lady, but there was someone else in there. Another woman, standing over her, I couldn't see what she was going. She fled, and we chased her. We got to—well, here, I suppose…"

"Surrounded her?" I assisted.

"Aye, she must of blasted us with some magic. I don't… really remember."

"It's alright," I said, examining a cut that was nearly hidden in his beard. "You're all safe now, that's what matters."

Gwaine was slowly collecting himself. For the first time, he fully realized my presence. "Wren," he said slowly, "What—what—possessed you—what are you doing here?"

"Merlin needed company," I shrugged, sheepishly.

Gwaine took hold of both my arms, as if he meant to give me a good shake. "And you thought—if you were going to run in Morgana—you'd just fight her yourself, is that it?"

"I just wanted to find you," I whispered. "What's done is done. We've found you and that's what matters."

"There's a bit of a problem here," came Sir Leon's voice, authoritative and worried. "The woman we chased was not the Lady Morgana."

"Then who was it?" asked Sir Elyan, now sitting up and flexing a sore arm. "I only saw a cloaked figure. Who else COULD it be?"

"I don't know," Sir Leon said sadly. "But I've known the Lady Morgana since she was a small child. I got a good look at her face. Whether she used magic or not for a disguise—it wasn't her."

"And you're sure of that?" Lancelot asked gently.

"I will swear it," Sir Leon said, gruffly. "It wasn't her."

Gwaine looked back at me. "What's wrong?"

My whole body was trembling. My dream wasn't about Morgana. It was about a voice in the woods. It was about finding them, and Gwaine. But he wasn't dead in my arms. Was that yet to come? Or did I just think he was dead while I was dreaming and assume the worst? Whom did the voice belong to? Why didn't she kill the knights? Why did she speak to me in the night?

"Why did the lady sorcerer just leave us lying around?" Percival asked, holding out a hand to Elyan and helping him to his feet. "That seems a bit strange."

Merlin spoke up. "If you don't mind me saying so—her kills seem very deliberate. Maybe she felt it was unnecessary bloodshed. You surprised her—fleeing was her only goal."

"He's right," Lancelot backed him up. "We interrupted something back there. We should return and examine the cabin. After all, we need to put Teller's wife in the wagon and bring her to Camelot—the man must want to bury her and give her a funeral. The sooner the better."

Gwaine was still looking at me. "You didn't answer my question."

"What?" I asked, distracted.

"What's wrong?" Gwaine asked. "You're shaking like a leaf."

"It's… cold. I'm shivering. That's all." If this was not some sorcery of the Lady Morgana, then who had a voice in my head whenever she felt like it? Who would have access? What if I was going mad? "Come on," I said, clearing my throat. "Let's get you up."

With him weighing so much in his armor, I could do very little to help him, except let him hold onto my arm as he stood up.

"Thank-you," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"No trouble," I replied.

"I wish you'd tell me what was wrong," Gwaine said, again.

"I am relieved to have found you. And you must admit, it's a bit eerie out here."

"So evasive. Perhaps another time," Gwaine looked annoyed with me, but didn't press the issue any farther. He did manage a snicker when I had to retrieve my dropped axe.

Leon ordered everyone to return to the cabin, where Madam Teller would be collected and put in a wagon, which Elyan would drive back to Camelot with the rest serving as a guard. The walk to the cottage felt much shorter, considering the ground we had covered was small but my worry and fear made it feel as if we were miles away from anything. Gwaine was walking with a mild limp, but it was only because he was sore from lying on the forest floor in his armor for a few hours. He could still ride without any trouble.

Merlin untied our horse and I moved to join him, but he shook his head.

"If you'd like to ride with me," Gwaine said slowly, "You may." He sat astride the brown horse, patting its neck.

I had a feeling he wanted me to ride with him so that he could ask more questions. He seemed grumpy that I hadn't shared my ghostly-nightmare story, but how could he know? I have every reason _not _to share it. I admire Gwaine greatly—but what do I know of him? Really? What do I know of Merlin? My instinct said Merlin wouldn't tell anyone of my prophetic dream. I seemed to have no instinct with Gwaine—it was all blind action, acting on impulses, being surprised and surprising myself with the strength of feeling for him. But in being reckless, I have to find moments to be wise. In being forward with Gwaine, and letting my feelings take control, I avowed to keep the nightmares to myself. For now, at least. I was not a _le Fay, _or at least I hoped I wasn't, and I didn't want anyone else wondering the same thing.

"Wren?"

"I'll ride with you, sorry," I apologized for my distraction. He held out a hand and lifted me by his own strength right into the saddle in front of him. One arm held the reigns, the other was loosely wrapped around my waist. It wasn't quite as exciting as I pictured, but pleasanter, somehow.

-The Road-

"How is your head?" I asked.

"It aches and buzzes," Gwaine sighed.

"You will go see the physician, won't you?"

"Tis required, I'm afraid. He'll be around to visit all of us and make sure we're not dead in our sleep."

"That's a horrible thing to say. I don't want to worry about that."

"You could always keep me company. We shan't bother anyone," Gwaine said, his tone teasing but his suggestion serious.

"I can't go to your quarters, Gwaine…"

"No one need know."

"I'm not one of _those _maids, either."

"On the contrary, I'm not suggesting you sacrifice your propriety, but you could sneak in. We could talk. Have a drink. Stay up all night. After all, you promised me a day."

"A day, not a night."

"The hour makes no difference."

"If I'm caught leaving that area of the palace, I'll lose my job. Even if we just talk all night."

"Oh—well. I don't want you to lose your job. Though I might see you more often if you were back at the tavern."

"Do you go to the tavern less nowadays?"

"A little less."

"Good!" I snapped. "You should drink less!" I could feel him grinning behind me. His voice came quite close to my ear—closer than before, anyway—and he whispered, "Then, when _can _we spend time together?"

"You mean if you don't die in your sleep?" I asked, bitterly.

"Right. If I don't die in my sleep."

"I'll be finished in the kitchens tomorrow by the time the royal party is ready for slumber. We have an hour or so at least of all the dish washing and preparation for breakfast."

"Did you get my note?"

"I did."

"And were you averse to the idea of dinner at the tavern with me?" Gwaine asked, hopefully.

"Sadly, the tavern is like a second home," I responded.

"Agreed," Gwaine said. "And you obviously didn't eat with me tonight—"

"You broke the appointment, not I. I came and fetched you from a witch-induced unconsciousness, remember?"

"Oh, yes, how easily I forget. Since I was late for our dinner, we shall postpone. Tomorrow night. Late dinner, of course, but I can wait till you're done with your evening chores. Then we'll eat at the tavern. And talk."

"You really want to talk, don't you?" I sighed, laughing.

"I can see a façade from a mile away," Gwaine explained. "My only problem is being able to see what is on the other side of it."

"Are you accusing me of wearing a mask?" I pretended to gasp.

"No," Gwaine said. "But you were wearing one tonight. So let's start with good food and good talk. Perchance you'll let me take your mask off."

I paused. "Sounds questionable."

"I usually am."

...

-Camelot –

It was important for the knights to report to Prince Arthur as soon as possible. I slipped off Gwaine's horse the minute we were inside the gates, and waved goodnight, which of course frustrated him—but he had his duties, and I had work in the morning. My head was spinning, and I couldn't seem to figure out which worried me more—my esteem for Gwaine and the flutters it gave my stomach, or the frightening voice in my dreams that foretold what happened in the woods.

...

-the Night –

"Do you understand?" said the voice.

I struggled away from the sound of her, floating among the trees with blood on her hands. "Understand what?"

"My gift," she replied.

"What gift?" I sobbed.

"Prophecy," she said. "It's for you if you want it."

"I don't want it!" I screamed loudly. "I DON'T WANT IT, I DON'T WANT IT!"

"It's nothing to be afraid of."

"It's magic. It's evil. I don't want any of it. I don't want to end up like Morgana." I tried to pinch myself. The nightmare felt so real.

"It isn't evil," the voice didn't sound pleased. "See the good it can cause? It helped you find the knights, didn't it? I led you to them."

"No! Get away from me! I don't want it. It's not a gift. It's horrible. I hate it."

The voice was slowly losing its friendly, benevolent tone. "You think you are so above magic?"

"I'm not above anything. I'm a servant. I live my life. I don't want prophecy in it."

"You have disappointed me."

"You're nothing but a bad dream!"

"Don't you sense it?"

"Sense what?"

"The approaching storm—something bad happening."

"Yes—yes I do. But what about it?"

"Know this, Wren—you've rejected my gift of prophecy, but you still possess some foretelling of your own. You may have disregarded my generosity, but I shall be satisfied in knowing you cannot throw away what you already have. I do not have to give you magic. Every human has the potential for it. I shall sit, and wait. Waiting and watching. I am confident that you'll understand someday."

"I will never have magic. No one can force me to."

"That is where you are wrong. I could tear you to a thousand pieces and serve you to Uther for his breakfast if I wished it. Don't forget that."

"You have nothing. You're just a bad dream."

"Don't forget my powers."

"It's only a dream."

"You will regret not taking your opportunity."

"Bad dream!"

"I'll see you again, Wren."

Waking up was a blessed relief, and in a way, a victory of a battle I didn't know existed.

…

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, guys! Please leave your reviews for me to devour! =)<strong>

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><p>…<p>

**Colbub – **I hope Wren doesn't become indispensible! I like writing her far too much.

**Serial blogger – **I love your reviews. Thanks!

**Merlinisawesome – **You know who is awesome? You're awesome! Thanks so much for your review, it warms my heart when people write such long ones :)

**Softballgirl – **No worries, I got your joke! I always yelled "Aggravating Agravaine!" at the screen when he was being mean.

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**Lindsey – **aw, that's so sweet of you to say! Thanks!


	22. Morning, Evening

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Thank-you for enjoying my story so much! I've had a great time with this. I have so many exciting things in plot storage that I am looking forward to using. Sorry it took me awhile to post, I was at the beach for the week! I wrote the rest of this chapter the old fashioned way—in a notebook. Hehe. Enjoy this chapter!**

**Love, Pip**

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><p>-Morning –<p>

I was receiving strange looks as I waddled slowly through the kitchen the next morning.

"Wot's the matt'r wich ya?" Mrs. Stewart asked.

"I've just got an ache, went a long walk yesterday," I lied. "I'll be all right in a day."

I had told Thea about my adventure, in the simplest terms. I told her that Merlin and I went riding, and ran into the knights as they returned. I left out the gruesome details regarding magic and my nightmare coming true. I didn't want Bit to hear about it and—again—go on and on about the danger of becoming _Le Fay. _I almost wished I hadn't told Thea about my dream so that it would leave me open to discuss finding Gwaine and the voice in the woods. I wished to confide in her, but I had to be choosy. That was my own fault.

But I did not even think about it too much, I was too focused on moving without falling over as I worked. Merlin should have warned me about how sore I would feel. How was I supposed to know that riding a horse would cause such _pain? _I could barely move, and the day seemed to last five times longer than the usual.

Carrying pots and kneeling to scrub them felt thrice as difficult, and all the while I groaned and shuffled about like an elderly man.

Merlin came down as the sun rose to fetch Prince Arthur's breakfast. He looked as tired as I, but moving much more quickly.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully when he saw me.

I glowered at him. "I feel like I've been beaten!"

Merlin snickered. "That's what happens. If you ride more, you won't feel like that."

I checked around, and made sure no one was listening. "I'm perfectly content blaming you for this pain."

"Blame away," he laughed, in a tired sort of way.

"How are you?" I asked.

Merlin paused, mid-laugh, suddenly unhappy. "Fine, fine."

"Still worried about the woman-that-wasn't-Morgana?" I asked.

"You know," Merlin said, keeping his voice low. "We explained everything to Arthur last night, but he is still convinced Morgana is behind everything."

"Maybe she is."

"I'm beginning to think she isn't," Merlin said. "Something doesn't make sense. I don't know what it is. But something just doesn't match up."

"I agree. But who else could it be?"

Merlin looked at me sideways. "Yes—who else? That's the question. I'm hoping you'll help me find out."

"Me?"

"You know why," Merlin insisted. He was referring to my nightmares. "I think you have a card in the game, whether you like it or not. I think that you—and I—working together on this, it's our best chance at finding out what is going on."

I shrugged. "If you think so, all right. But I don't know how helpful I _can _be."

Merlin picked up Arthur's tray, and absently straightened one of the silver dishes. "I _know _so," he said quietly. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Are you sure there isn't something else bothering you?" I asked.

"If you must know," Merlin sighed, checking for eavesdroppers again. "You know Agravaine arrived last night while we were away."

"Oh, that's right. I forget he was expected."

Merlin was silent.

"You don't like him?" I inferred.

"Honest opinion?" Merlin whispered. "The second I got to the throne room—he gave me a bad feeling. I don't like it. And I can't explain it."

"He hasn't done anything wrong?" I said slyly.

"No."

"And you don't like him?" I added.

"Not yet, anyway," Merlin explained. "There's just something fishy about him."

"I am speaking from experience," I said slowly, "Um—give him a chance to impress you. Maybe you'll be friends."

Merlin looked at me sideways. "Like us?"

"Yeah," I smiled, "Like us."

Merlin's smile was brief. "This is different, though."

"I understand that. I'm not disregarding your bad feeling. You keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe there is something else going on."

"He says all the right things," blurted Merlin, "But to me? It sounds snake-ish. Manipulative. I'm worried about what this means for Arthur in the future."

"Protect your prince," I nodded. "That's all you can do."

"And maybe feed him his breakfast," Merlin laughed, looking down at the forgotten tray in his hands. He fled from the kitchen, and I returned to my scrubbing, legs hurting and head spinning.

-Afternoon –

"I am eating with Gwaine tonight," I finally confessed to my roommate and her friend. "At the tavern."

"Finally!" Thea exclaimed.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked solemnly.

"Isn't it unseemly?" Bit added.

"Not if you used to work there," Thea said practically.

"But it's a tavern," protested Bit. "Can't he just sneak you into the Great Hall for a royal banquet?"

"No," I said stoutly, "And neither of us care for the finery, either."

"Oh it's 'us' now, is it?" hooted Bit, having a great laugh at my expense.

Suddenly, Thea exploded. "You're not wearing that, are you?" she said, holding a hand to her mouth in horror. "You've scrubbed vomit from a silver platter in that thing. I'll not have you eat out with a knight in your work attire."

In a flurry, they made me their rag doll before I could so much as let out three protests. They wrapped my hair in strips of fabric to make curls. Bit loaned me a dress that she wore for a village wedding before moving to Camelot to become a maid. The dress was simple cotton, a light blue, pale like a summer sky. The short sleeves were white, showing—in my opinion—too much of my pasty white arms.

Bit somehow managed to get a hold of lip balm from Terrin, made from wax, honey, and aloe. It made my lips shine and look healthy, but I was used to having them chapped.

"I don't want to look like one of those unsavory circus performers from Cenred's kingdom!" I squawked.

Thea replied, "You're not wearing any make up or rouge, Wren! It's modest, it really is. I promise."

We had to return to our work in time, and the only person who _didn't _tease me about my wadded-up hair was Ella and Terrin. She merely winked and smiled in approval. Terrin, on the other hand, didn't seem to approve. He was only about seven years older than I, but I felt like I was being scolded by a grandfather.

"If the knight had any such decency, it wouldn't be a tavern," he said in a voice like a whisper. He raised his eyebrows at me. "I do hope you are carefully considering his intentions." I'm convinced Terrin couldn't kill a spider, much less raise his voice towards us maids when he disapproved of something.

"I am, sir. Don't worry."

"Some knights are rogues and think maids are there for a mere distraction," Terrin said, choosing his words carefully. I could tell he would never speak of promiscuity or indecency as long as he could help it. "I hope you'll be… careful. There's really no telling what they do."

"The Prince chooses men of honor to be his knights," I said.

"Nevertheless," Terrin said, running his hand through his hair anxiously. His brown hair was turning silver at the temples—a sign of early aging from the stress of his work. Poor man wasn't even thirty yet. "Please check in with Mrs. Stewart or myself when you've returned tonight."

"Yes sir."

Terrin nodded briefly and walked stiffly away.

"I thought he was going to forbid me," I sighed with relief.

"Terrin likes you, whether you realize it or not," Ella explained quietly. "We once had a maid here who became pregnant. She didn't say whom the father was. Uther ordered her to be turned out, but Terrin begged for her to be able to keep her job."

I was astounded. "Poor girl. What happened to her?"

"Lived on the last of her wages in the inn. She left for Cenred's kingdom, and last we know, gave birth to a son and was living in a poor-house. Sometimes she got work as a seamstress. We haven't seen her since."

"And Terrin was worried that Gwaine was the bad sort?"

"He has every right to worry. Noblemen are always taking advantage of servants. That's how life is."

"That isn't right!"

"No. It's not. But we're servants and we have no rights. You owe Terrin a great deal for letting you go tonight—he must trust you and your judgment."

"I trust _his _judgment too, I think," I said slowly, "He has been so kind to us."

-The Evening –

I hugged my arms awkwardly as I made my way out of the kitchens and into the courtyard. My feet slapped the paved stones in a magnified volume that made me cringe with every step. So much for leaving the castle with discretion!

The night air had a surprising warmth to it, the sky like the black crystals I've seen the noblewomen wear. Perhaps I could convince Gwaine for a pleasant walk tonight…

I was nearing the gate at the moat bridge. Two guards stood at either side of the causeway, eyes straight ahead and spears held in their fists. Thought I didn't know who they were, I suddenly felt some pity for them. If the city were to come under attack, they'd be the first to perish. No one indispensable was given the post at the gate, and everyone knew it. I wonder how a foot soldier felt when assigned to it?

I caught myself with an inward chuckle. Merlin was being influential on me, whether he knew it or not. Six weeks ago I would not have cared about door guards or even noticed them—I only would have been nursing my latest bruise from Lady Deanna.

There was a man coming through the gate from the Lower Towns. He was an immense figure—not fat like a man who eats pastries all day—but an intimidating character, a barrel shaped body that was both well-fed and superior with rank and self-confidence. His face was concentrating but pleasant under a mop of black hair, his jowls working loosely with every purposeful step.

"Familiarizing yourself with your new home, sir?" called the gate-guard cheerfully. "Beautiful night for it."

The man walked between the two guards, disregarding their existence at first. But at the sound of the guard's greeting, he turned slowly with a warm, calculating gaze. "Do not address me thus," he said coldly, with a hint of brutality hidden about it somewhere. "I am not a 'sir'. I am _the _protectorate, an advisee, and your LORD—third only to the King of Camelot and his son, the Prince Regent. Am I understood?"

I paused in my approach. I did not like what I was hearing. I decided for the moment to wait in the shadows, behind the pillars lining the hall of the courtyard perimeter. I would go through the gate when the man's temper has subsided and he was on his own way.

"Yes, milord," answered the guard with fervor, "I apologize."

"But you are right," said the man kindly, though he did not smile in a kind way. "It is a beautiful night. Keep up the good work, gentlemen."

The two guards brightened immediately and stood all the straighter.

The praise, coupled with disciplinary words, seemed to be a sign of good leadership and worthy of respect—but I didn't like this man one bit. I felt his harshness was completely uncalled for. If there was reason for discipline, then it would have made a difference. But I didn't think the guard was at any fault.

_You're right, Merlin, _I thought, _I don't like Lord Agravaine either._

Lord Agravaine seemed to be moving on, so I crept forward, relieved that I did not interrupt. But rather than walking onward—he merely stopped, turned, and beheld me emerging from beneath the overhang. I felt uncomfortable as he smiled.

"Hello," he said, pleasantly.

"Milord," I said cordially, dropping a quick curtsy. "If you'll excuse me, Milord," I added as an afterthought. He remained where he was standing, watching me, as I trotted quickly around him.

"What reason does a young person like yourself have for walking out of the castle at night?" he asked, in a friendly tone.

"Meeting a friend, milord," I said, hesitantly facing him. _If only I could be a few more feet away from him… _

"So late?" Lord Agravaine questioned with a knowing smile.

"It's been a long day, milord," I said, wondering if I could back away from him slowly, and if he'd notice my rudeness.

"And who is this friend?" he continued.

_Would Gwaine get in trouble? Did he have to ask permission from Prince Arthur to meet me? Was our relationship even something considered worthy of scrutiny?_

"Begging your pardon," I said again, taking a risky breath. "But my business is my own, milord."

This seemed to surprise him in an unpleasant way, but he did not react harshly as he did with the guard. "Ah, a secret friend," he implied, "A forbidden love, perhaps? Tis as well, I was young once too, you know. I won't keep you."

"Thank-you, milord," I bowed my head. Just as I thought I was safe, he lunged at me and grabbed my arm. I was so startled by the sudden movement that I did nothing but stare up at him, open mouthed.

"Do be careful," he said in a tame, casual tone. "Young ladies shouldn't wander alone."

I jerked my arm away and whirled, not caring about proper exits anymore. I walked across the moat-bridge speedily and did not look back. I did not know if he watched me go.

I arrived in the streets of the lower towns, and in the darkness as I walked, tried to calm my nerves.

…

…

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><p><strong>Next: A "date" with Gwaine. Dinner and a movie! Er, wait. No. Just wait. and read. <strong>

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><p><strong>Authors Note:<strong>

**I am so excited about this story, you have no idea. Crazy things are in store. The plot bunnies went crazy a few days ago, and I have a solid, concrete future for this story. Let's have a little poll, though, shall we? Should we prefer to end this novel, and should I start a sequel? A sequel with a similar title but more descript for the type of story it will turn into? Or shall I just keep writing in this same story, even if it goes up to fifty chapters or so…? Let me know if you want it split into two parts, or to just keep rolling on. Love to you all. **

**Pip**


	23. The Rising Sun II

**Dearest Reviewers,**

**The chapter was so long I had to split it in two, which is why I am updating twice on the same day. I hope you all will review both chapters, however, I am seeking questions and queries as well as your lovely compliments. You are so all so lovely and kind. But don't hold back if you have questions or concerns! I'd love to hear any and all thoughts!**

**Love,**

**Pip**

**PS: the answers to questions from the reviews of Chapter 21 are located at the end of this chapter. Thanks for your patience =)**

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><p>-The Rising Sun-<p>

...

I found I was dreading the moment when Gwaine would see me in my borrowed dress. It was nothing fancy, only a maids' idea of clean and decent. Any noblewoman would call it a rag, but I wondered if this was what princesses felt like.

I walked down to the tavern. I knew Gwaine would be there already, saving us a table. The later it got, the more crowded it became. Though he didn't know exactly when I would be finished with kitchen chores—perhaps I could sneak up on him, and save myself the embarrassment of being watched as I entered the room and walked towards him.

_Does anyone else feel anxious in approaching a handsome knight?_ I thought, wistfully. _If only there was someone I could ask!_

The tavern was bustling with customers. Business had grown since I had left! The arrival of Lord Agravaine meant the addition of his own servants, host, and people—people thirsty to try what Camelot had to offer. I wondered if his people were all as unsavory as him.

I wished to jump behind the counter and begin work right away, reminding myself of course that I was here to have some _amusement, _to spend time with someone I _liked. _Liking people and enjoying myself were, sadly, two things I'd rarely experienced, and hoped my social skills weren't too out of practice.

It was crowded and merry. Orange firelight played against the brown shadows of men laughing, drinking, and throwing hands of cards onto their tables. It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I did not see Gwaine.

Someone tapped my shoulder, and I whirled around in surprise. Gwaine stood there, in simple, every-day clothes, looking like a Gwaine that might work in the smithies shop or in an armory.

"For awhile, I thought you were going to not come at all," he said, grinning at me roguishly. Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was the moment when I nearly kissed him before the alarm bells chimed. How clumsy it would have been—I am glad it did not happen.

"Oh, no," I assured, "I wanted to come. I am famished."

"Well then! This way." Gwaine put his hand in the small of my back and guided me to a table at the far end of the room. It was hidden behind a half-wall and a pillar, often occupied by more unsavory individuals who wanted to conduct business without a watchful bartender. He gestured for me to sit in the bench with my back to the wall, and he slid on the other side, sitting across from me. His back was to the bustling crowds. I wondered, in my own small way, how much I noticed this detail? Gwaine didn't seem like the type of man who'd like to have his back to any of these characters, yet he put me in the safest spot.

"I've ordered us… chicken," Gwaine said, ending the sentence a little lamely.

"You sound worried," I chuckled.

"I didn't know if you liked chicken."

"Of course I do," I exclaimed, "I don't want you to worry."

"And ale, too."

"Alright," I said, "As long as I'm not carrying you back to the castle."

Gwaine scoffed teasingly. "Me? Never."

I laughed. "It's fine. I can personally vouch for the quality of meat and drink here."

A few ruffians laughed at another table. We paused and glanced over. The people of the tavern were pressed back to back as they maneuvered from bar to tables. Someone began ordering the pickled eggs loudly. I didn't even realize people still enjoyed the pickled eggs. Gwaine visibly cringed at the sound of the eggs and laughed, returning his attention to me.

"So, _Wren,_" Gwaine drawled. "I realized today that I do not know your full name."

"To tell you the truth, neither do I," I laughed. Gwaine's eyebrows shot up. "Only—what I mean is..." I retracted. "I go by the last name of my aunt and uncle. _D'Courcy._ But since I am not a lady of any standing, there has never been any need for a person to call me _Miss D'Courcy _or anything."

"Why do you not know your parents' surnames?"

"I never knew my parents. My aunt and uncle brought me to Camelot as an infant—the city, that is. They always lived in Camelot, I think… just in the farmlands. They were farm workers, I think, before they came here, and became tradesmen."

"Where do they live?"

"They do not live, unfortunately. They were killed in Morgana's usurping. Morgause's men killed them as an example."

Gwaine looked horrified that he brought it up.

"And don't worry," I said quickly, "I barely knew them. I've been working in the palace for as long as I can remember—first for a Madam Sherman, then the Lady Deanna."

Gwaine was relieved he hadn't brought up a painful subject, but still ventured to ask more questions. "But you have no idea of whom your parents are?"

"I never wondered." But I had. Enough social anxiety seemed to deem that this information didn't need to be shared—about long sleepless nights, just thinking. Nothing dramatic. Just _thinking. _

"Huh," Gwaine hummed thoughtfully, pausing to let Evoric approach the table. Evoric gave me a wink before plopping down a tray that held two plates of steaming chicken, roasted greens, and two cups of ale.

"You two enjoy y'rselves," Evoric smiled at us and melted back into the crowd.

Gwaine and I put our familial topic on hold while we tried the chicken and the ale. I never drank hardly any ale while I worked at the tavern, save testing a few sips of some drink that I was stirring.

"Why so interested in my parents? In my opinion, they do not really exist," I said lightly, sipping my ale and feeling the warmth of it flood me from head to toe. It was very good, and I briefly missed my previous situation as a lady barmaid.

"I'm just curious 'bout your background, is all," Gwaine explained, "You seemed to creep into my existence so suddenly that I looked behind you for clarification and found nothing but empty pages. I hoped you'd fill them."

"Well—what about you?" I tried. "Your parents are not in Camelot, I presume?"

"My father is no longer alive," Gwaine said, slowly, with an almost guilty look on his face. "It's a bit of a long story—perhaps too long for tonight. I'd hoped tonight would be about _me _asking _you _questions."

"You may try as much as you like," I said, hesitating a little. "I may or may not answer. Just tell me a little bit about your family. I will be satisfied."

"Have you wondered why I have no love of nobility?" Gwaine asked.

"I have noticed the differences of you and Sir Leon's behaviors."

"My father was a knight, and killed. The King for whom he fought left us destitute and turned us away, rather than carrying for the widow and her children."

"You have a brother or a sister?"

"Sister, and we don't get along, I don't see her. I am not attached to my family anymore," Gwaine answered carelessly. He chuckled to himself and raised his cup of ale. "To our patchwork parentage."

I silently clinked my cup against his, and took another drink.

"Now then," Gwaine set the cup aside, and ate more of the chicken. "I'd like to hear more about you and Merlin getting into this nasty business."

"I hope you don't think Merlin and I are too close…"

"Hardly. I trust Merlin more than I trust anyone. I just want to know how in a dragonsfire did you end up on one of his mercy missions?"

"This happens often?"

"Merlin is the most troublesome creature I've ever met. I think his first mercy mission was dragging _me _to Camelot."

"Where were you before?"

"Living by my sword. It was a freer life. But… very lonely," he added, hesitating. "I tried to stay away. But when Arthur has needed help, I can't stop myself. I helped him and helped Merlin, and found myself a knight. Isn't that odd?"

"I think that says much of you, as a good person," I said, shyly.

"You're very sly at changing the subject. Tell me about you and Merlin showing up in the woods."

I took a very large gulp of ale, and even Gwaine looked surprised. "Easy, there," he said slowly, "You may have worked here for a month but that doesn't make you more capable of holding your liquor."

I wondered how much I could tell him, without bringing magic into it at all. But perhaps he felt the same way about magic that Merlin did? Or at least, it _seemed _like Merlin agreed that bad magic can happen to good people. Merlin wouldn't blame me if I had magic forced on me—I would be a victim, wouldn't I? Not a perpetrator?

"A million things just raced across your face," Gwaine said. "If you shan't tell me, I'll order you another drink."

"No, no, I'll tell you," I grimaced, "I just don't know where to begin."

"The beginning?" Gwaine offered, snickering unhelpfully.

"Well," I tried, "Merlin and I were worried when the knights did not return at the arranged time. The Prince could not be parted from the city, as he was expecting his uncle. He resolved to look for you all in the morning. Fearing the worst, Merlin and I decided to look for ourselves."

"And you found us out in the woods?"

"I… uh… I had a bad dream about people being hurt in the woods. The two just seemed to coincide—it was a freak coincidence, I mean—and we found you, and…"

"That's what you were worried about?" Gwaine said, seeing right through it. "Dreaming about it before it happened?"

"Yes, I know it looks strange."

"Everyone dreams, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Gwaine said dismissively.

And that was that.

…

The worry lifted from me and darted away, disappearing into the firelight. Feeling freed of his opinion, we continued talking animatedly. He asked me what my work was like in the kitchen and pitied that it seemed so boring. I asked him to describe his work, and said I felt sorry for him that he had to fight whenever he was asked. We both had a second drink, and from there, began to ask about what we liked and didn't like. We both shared a dislike of nobles, but had to agree there were exceptions—like the knights, the prince, and certain manservants that possessed noble characters. Then the conversation turned to the Lord Agravaine.

"I don't like him," I said, rather suddenly.

"I haven't really met him yet," Gwaine said, curiously. "Why don't you like him?"

"He reminds me of a prowler, a cat or a snake perhaps, something that likes to manipulate and intimidate."

"Strong words! What caused this?"

"I—uh—actually met him on the way here tonight. He was very harsh with the gate-guards for no reason. He had frightful manners."

"What did he do?" Gwaine wasn't smiling anymore.

I shrugged. "He said I shouldn't be out alone. He seemed to have no sense of personal boundaries," I tried to laugh it off.

"You mean he talked to YOU?" Gwaine erupted. "But why? You're just a kitchen maid!"

I blinked. "Is there something wrong with being a kitchen maid?"

"No! I mean—a powerful man like that should have _no _interest in anyone below his station. If he does, I do _not _trust his intentions. I hope you'll stay away from him, Wren."

"I'm below your station," I said, trying not to be offended. His heart was in the right place, after all.

"That's different," Gwaine protested. "I like you. Did you get the feeling that Agravaine liked you?"

"No, not at all."

"My point. A man that is second to the regent can have his fair-pick of arranged courtships and eventual marriage, all from wealthy, thick courtiers. If he is going to pick on a kitchen maid, there is no outcome for it. What, then, could he possibly want? Nothing decent, I assure you."

"What do you want?" I asked firmly. "Agravaine was a perfect beast to those guards and I formed my opinions of him. Perhaps they will change. They've changed for others. But so far, I'm seeing a very convenient parallel between the two of you."

Gwaine softened. "It looks bad, I know. But I don't feel like a nobleman. I don't feel like I'm above your station. I was a runaway and a sword-for-hire before I came here. I feel out of tune with all this palace rot."

"You didn't answer my question," I repeated, "What do you want? From me?"

Gwaine tilted his head. "You surprised me. I may have forgotten you if you found a job elsewhere and moved on. But you keep showing up. I drank less when you worked at the tavern because I didn't want you to raise your eyebrows in disapproval at me. I saw you in the market and wanted to keep you all to myself. I feel even the stables smelled nice when you stepped through the doors. Out of all the people—anyone could have come—Merlin, Gaius, Prince Arthur, Gwen—anyone could have found us in the woods. But you dreamed it. And you were there. You woke me up in more ways than one."

I was silent.

"That is why I am not seeing stations or compare myself to Agravaine," Gwaine continued, "I don't have my 'fair pick' of anyone just because I'm a knight, I've never thought that way. I've flirted and danced my way through just about everything in this life as carelessly as possible. And then the tables turned—and you flirted and danced your way into _my _life. And that, my dear friend, captivates me."

I broke into embarrassed laughter, covering my face with my hands and wondering how close I was to tears.

"Too much?" Gwaine winced.

"You didn't actually answer my question," I said, wiping my eyes.

"Does it need answering? What I _want, _Wren, is for you to not go away. _Don't_ go away. Continue to surprise me. If I ever get knocked unconscious in the woods again—I want your pretty face to wake me up. I hope you always show up."

"Even in stables? Even if I have strange dreams?"

"Especially then. I can't be expected to only spend my life in the company of smelly knights for the rest of my life."

Suddenly, there was a hoot of laughter, and Sir Percival squeezed into the booth beside me, laughing uproariously and taking up too much space.

"Hello!" he cried loudly. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes," Gwaine said shortly.

"Many 'appy wishes," exclaimed Sir Percival, with a cough that half-heartedly disguised a belch. He pounded on his chest to keep it down and grinned at us both. "Nice night, idn't it?" then he slid out of the booth, pounded Gwaine's shoulder in a friendly farewell, and tromped back into the crowd to the laughter and cheers of those he drank with.

We burst into laughter as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Apparently a little drink frees his tongue," I said.

"They say he is a man of little words," agreed Gwaine, "But I'd say he is a man of big words—just far less often than most."

…

The conversation turned to the food and drink at hand, having finished off the chicken and greens and sipping the last of our drinks. Gwaine asked if I'd like a third, and I declined.

Evoric came by our table again when Gwaine pulled out his coin purse, and said, "On th' house, f'r my favorite lass," with a fatherly hand on my shoulder. He shook Gwaine's hand warmly. I stopped him before he left for the back kitchen again and embraced him tightly, telling him I missed him.

The drink was beginning to go to my head, it buzzed a little with a lightheaded swarm. Gwaine hadn't been affected, two drinks were nothing to him.

When I yawned, he laughed. "Shall I escort you back?" he asked.

I nodded, numbly. "I'm afraid so!"

"Afraid so?" Gwaine tried not to laugh at me.

"It's been such a long day—I am so tired. I don't wish to end the night, though."

"We've been here for nearly three hours," Gwaine reminded me. "It's been a perfectly long talk. I'm afraid I've exhausted you."

I glanced down at the empty cups of ale. "I think that is making me sleepy."

"That has a tendency to happen. Come on." Gwaine took my hand and pulled me out of the booth. I swayed a little on my feet—standing up seemed to thrust all kinds of clumsy confusion up to my head.

I giggled and put a hand to my forehead. "That was uncommonly—uh—affecting?"

Gwaine laughed and kept a hold on my hand, leading out of the crowd. We passed Sir Percival and Sir Elyan, playing some sort of game with other men at a round table. They waved and shouted loudly to us as we walked by them. Gwaine just smiled and shook his head. "They'll be here for a lot longer," he chuckled. "I may have to come fetch them."

"You're a good friend to them," I said.

"I'd rather see you safely off to bed," Gwaine said, finally leading me out of the tavern and into the night air, whose temperature had dropped severely. But it felt refreshing and brisk, despite our breath coming out in frosty clouds.

...

-The Lower Towns –

...

My mind seemed to float somewhere between the sky and my neck. _Two drinks? That's it? Faugh… nothing more for me, thank-you. _

"May I?" Gwaine asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I leaned into him as we walked. "Mhm. I was thinking it'd be fun to walk around town in the night. But it's a little cold for it, isn't it?"

"You're tired," Gwaine said, "Another night. Maybe tomorrow."

"Alright, tomorrow," I agreed. "You know my supervisor was worried about me coming to see you tonight."

"Oh?"

"He seems to think that you'll behave poorly."

"Does this seem like poor behavior to you?"

"Nooooo," I drawled, "Not at all."

"If you had to only know one thing about me, Wren—only one thing—it'd be that you can trust me."

"I don't really trust anyone, I'm afraid," I admitted. "Not with everything."

"And that, Wren, is a fault, not a virtue," Gwaine said harshly.

"Oh, really?" I exclaimed.

"I think you are good for me," Gwaine said stoutly. "For the reasons I listed earlier. You're good for me. But you know what? Maybe I'm good for you, too. Because I'm not going to play nice with you if you don't need it."

"Excuse me?" I cried.

"I don't play games," Gwaine said. "This is one of the reasons that I had such a rocky relationship with nobility. They whisper and gossip behind fans and shields—but you know what? I don't. I never have. It's part of being independent."

"But you're not a sword for hire anymore," I said confusedly.

"No—but you can be independent in other ways. Which means I don't mince my words behind meanings and hints. So when I say that your untrustworthiness is a fault—I hope you know I mean it, without any disrespect intended."

I chewed over that for a second. "Are you saying I should be naïve?"

"No, but you should know you can trust a friend. Otherwise it's not real friendship, is it?"

"I trust you, Gwaine."

"Good!" he snapped. "But a moment ago, you said you trusted no one."

"I meant—I don't share everything, I don't trust a single person to know everything about me," I clarified. "There are some things I'd rather keep to myself."

...

- The Citadel-

...

We were nearing the moat now, passing the entrance to the tournament grounds and the end of the market. We went over the bridge, passed the door guards. Our conversation fell silent till we were well away from them, and plodding over the courtyard, to the pillared overhand around the square edges once again. Finally beneath the roof of the hall above, Gwaine broke the silence.

"Thank-you for removing your mask tonight," he said simply, turning me towards him. "I'm sure you know that I wouldn't mind kissing you right now."

"I'm sure you know I wouldn't mind either," I said, nerves flooding my stomach.

"But," Gwaine leaned close, and wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against him. He buried his face into my neck, and whispered, "I'm afraid we have an audience, and you're a wee bit tipsy. So that'll have to wait—as much as I don't like it."

"Knights code?" I asked, my face uncomfortably mashed into his collarbone. I was not tall enough to have my chin over his shoulder like most girls could accomplish.

"Something like that… honor, you know," he chuckled. "I am held to high standards!"

"Wait," I said suddenly, "We have an audience?" I pulled back and looked around, nervously. Near the entrance to the back rooms, with the stairs that led down to the kitchen's and servants quarters, a door quickly slammed shut.

"I believe it was your supervisor," Gwaine said, with a smile. "So I'll say goodnight, milady."

I was too tired to argue with him about the title he kept giving me. Gwaine walked to the door and opened it up for me. "Goodnight," he said, winding his fingers up with mine.

I smiled sleepily, reached up, and brushed his long hair away from the bruise on his forehead. I remembered wondering if he was dead in the woods, and shuddered. "How is your head?" I asked, trailing my finger down to the cut that was half-hidden by his rough, short beard. "This one looks alright."

Gwaine sighed, catching my other hand in his, so that he held onto both. "Gaius has declared me in the best of health. I was a little sore today, but nothing that a pleasant night couldn't cure."

"Good," I said, nodding. "Come down to the kitchens for tea if you ever suffer from—uh—headaches, or something."

"Maybe tomorrow," Gwaine replied. "I shall invent a terrible headache if you'll make me tea."

"Consider it done," I couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face.

Gwaine leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Then he disengaged his fingers and I felt upset that the night was over already.

"Uh—mhm," I stuttered. "Yes. Goodnight."

I began a slow walk down the stairs, and he laughed, and shut the door behind me.

...

-Servants Quarters-

...

Terrin's light was on in his room. I tapped on the door softly.

"Come in," he said.

I creaked open the door, and leaned against the doorframe sleepily. "I've returned," I announced, unnecessarily.

"And did you have a good time?" Terrin said quietly, unsmiling.

"I did!" I assured, yawning. "We just talked, and talked, and talked."

"I'm glad to hear it," Terrin said, without much gladness. "But the hour is late. Will you be making a habit of this?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "His intentions—seem—well, he doesn't have any intention of _not _seeing me."

Terrin harrumphed in his throat, disapprovingly.

"I know this isn't normal," I offered.

"This is normal," Terrin looked up, speaking quite firmly for the first time. "This is normal for young maids to get carried off and lied to. This is _normal _for noblemen to take their pick and leave a young girl with a child and a huge reputation. I just thought better of you—that's all. Do I smell liquor?"

"We ate at the tavern, Terrin. Of course you smell liquor."

"I hope you're happy," Terrin added, his vehemence quiet.

"I am. I'm very happy. He isn't like you think he is—why, _I'm _not who you think I am. Bloody hell, Terrin! Do you think I just throw myself at anyone? I understand that I am new here, but know this—you can be assured I don't just spend my time with anyone or trust everyone. I'm cautious and polite and smart."

Terrin was surprised at my outburst.

"Sir Gwaine has treated me with kindness and respect," I added, "And he did not kiss me tonight because we drank and you were spying."

"I never…"

"He saw you at the door."

"Alright!" Terrin exclaimed. "I watched at the door to make sure nothing happened to you when you said your goodnights. I didn't know if he was going to overpower you and carry you off—I did not want a repeat…" he paused, and changed his story. "Maybe you're too young to understand the rude truth of what happens in palace life."

"I've lived in the palace all my life!" I exclaimed. "I'm well aware of what happens."

"Oh," Terrin said, in a small voice. "Well. Then I'm sure you'll move ahead carefully."

"Of course I will," I snapped. "And you're not much older than me, you know. We're only a few years apart. You may be my superior but you are not much wiser than I am. You'd think…" I paused, and my sobriety began to kick in with the adrenaline of our argument. "Terrin," I exclaimed, softly, "You were in love with her, weren't you? The maid that became pregnant and left?"

"How did you know about that?" Terrin asked, horrified.

"Kitchen gossip," I said. "And that's why you're so worried. You were in love with the maid. And things—well, things fell apart, didn't they?"

"Almost nine years ago," Terrin admitted, "King Uther had a much crueler, savage group of knights under his reign. The Prince was a spoiled child who threw knives at innocent commoners. Uther was unfaithful to his family. Bastards were born right and left from his knights, and the King having just one affair—the one that birthed Morgana—seemed to justify their behavior. Igraine's family was not savory, either. The great purge was at its' golden age. Times were different then. It was dark and unhappy."

At that time, I was working for Madam Sherman, who was an elderly woman. I did nothing in the palace except scurry to do her bidding and care for her impressive wardrobe. I knew nothing about what was outside the palace walls. I was just a child at the time—Terrin would have been a teenager.

"That must have been hard," I said kindly.

"She's dead, you know," Terrin said in a whisper. "She died in childbirth. She refused to let me marry her and help her. She'd been taken in by a rogue-ish knight who played a harp and wrote her sonnets and gave her the crowns he won in tournaments. When she became pregnant, he abandoned her. He died in a melee not long after."

"And she abandoned you," I filled in the blank.

"If you'd like to look at it that way," Terrin said. "She was frightened and lost. I cannot blame her for anything she did."

"Nor would I," I said, "And I would hope you would not blame me—or Sir Gwaine—for something that hasn't happened to us. Will you try to keep an open mind, for us? Trust me. I trust you, you know," I remembered Gwaine's harsh words about it being a fault, and not a virtue, to trust know one. "I care about what you think."

Terrin looked up at me, and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I hope you won't mention this conversation to anyone."

"I won't."

"We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, Wren. Please sleep well and deeply."

"And you, Terrin."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I pulled his door shut, and wiped my own tears from my eyes. I walked down the black corridor, silent, slipping into my own room and removing my borrowed dress. Sleep claimed me in a matter of a few seconds, in which I dreamed that Terrin's maid returned and they were reunited, and happy.

...

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><p><strong>Please leave me your lovely reviews! I shall eat them up! Also, here is cyber cake, for your awesomeness. I love you all!<strong>

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><p><strong>Personal Replies:<strong>

**Merlinisawesome: **I'm glad you pointed that out, for it bears some warning before hand. I will let the readers know—but yes, this story is getting progressively darker. I hoped it should be understood (with the Lady Deanna being an abusive noblewoman) but some of the darkness in later chapters might surprise some people. Good point. We'll see about that riding lesson ;)

**Guest: **Aw, thank-you so much for your kind review. The plot may seem interesting enough, but I've gotta tell you, I am stoked for what is to come. It's going to practically explode with plot in the future. It began as character driven, but I believe now that the characters are established, it's okay for them to have adventures now.

**ReadingRaven019: **I didn't realize I was being so mysterious! I am excited to see how my mystery pans out in the future. I hope I can keep you all on your toes!

**Griffinesque: **what a nice compliment! Thank-you! I don't know how this turned into a romance but Gwaine just jumped in and controlled things for awhile. My story really had a mind of its own for a bit and nothing I could do would change their minds. Silly characters! I hope the romance adds to the story, not detracts from it.

**Reverie Indigo: **Oh my, you crack me up! I kind of love how impatient you are. Hopefully these two updates in a row were satisfactory for you, you lovely person.

**Lancelotsgirl112: **Being knocked upside the head is no fun, but don't worry, they are back on their feet now and causing major trouble ;)

**The Red Crayon: **That is so strange you cannot find me on facebook! I think there is something wrong with my page, I tried to fix it but it's a little out of my reach. I'm not much of a facebook person. Silly me. Any how, I shall look for you on youtube! I'm still mrspippinbaggins on there. I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter!

**Alaia Skyhawk: **Interesting to have a character completely unaware of Merlin's magic, isn't it? I always wondered what it was like from the prospective of someone who has no idea of his powers and mistakenly believes that magic is evil!

**Merlin Lover: **I am glad you like him! I like him too :)

**StarryNight359: **We shall see, won't we? Muahahaha…

**Serial Blogger: **I'm so glad you like Wren! It's always a bit risky having a female OC with a romance, isn't it? Wren started out as just a composite character of experiences that I wanted to convey, to show how friendship can change a person, but she just kind of leapt out of my control and then Gwaine moved in and I was like—guys! This is my story! What are you doing? But I'm just dealing with it, haha, and I'm going to make them obey my plot whether they continue to fall in love or not.


	24. Morning After

**Dearest Reviewers,**

**I Am. Excited. **

**The end. **

**Love, me.**

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><p><strong>Warning: This chapter is all over the place! There's a little angst, and then fluffiest of fluff. Then, we've got major stranger danger and A REVEAL! (though no, it's not Merlin revealing his magic to Arthur. Sorry. But enjoy.)<strong>

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><p>...<p>

-the Morning After –

...

"You 'ad another nightmare last night, didn't ya?" Thea asked kindly.

"What makes you say that?" I said, doubtful. "I don't remember dreaming anything. I slept deeply—two cups of ale really did the trick."

"Two? That's all! Ha. Well, you tossed an' turned—an' you said something, too…"

"What did I say?"

"You said—let me go. It won't work. He's dead. Then you woke up for a minute, panted, an' fell back onto your pillow… and began t' snore."

"I am sorry of the snoring kept you up…"

"Are ya sure you don't remember your dream?"

"No, actually," I said, somewhat worriedly. "Not at all. I thought I slept peacefully. I was so happy when I went to bed… I mean… I don't understand."

"Well—it wasn't very peaceful. But don' worry, it only woke me up for a minute," Thea hefted a basket of freshly baked rolls onto her hip. "But you might consider talkin' to the court physician if these continue. It can't be healthy."

I had to ignore the parallels. "I'd rather avoid the court physician."

"Why? Did you an' Merlin have a fight?" she teased.

"No, hardly. I just don't like fusses."

"Well," Thea shrugged. "Can't say I didn't try to advise you!"

"I appreciate it, Thea. I really do. You're a good roommate."

"Oh, pfft," Thea snorted, "Stop it, you'll make me blush!"

...

-The Dream –

...

"Can't you understand it?" said Her—it was her voice, again.

I was powerless to close my ears to it.

"Understand what?" I shrieked, more exasperated than frightened.

"Understand what it means to be sensational," she said, with a psychotic laugh. "We can be sensational—together."

Something clamped around my wrist. It was like Lady Deanna—no, it was Lord Agravaine. No—it was someone I didn't recognize. I couldn't see the face. I could see the hand—pale, worn, older, bejeweled with wicked-looking rings made of iron and holding precious stones that burned with magic.

"Let me go," I shouted. There was a shape in the ground—in the darkness—a grave.

"It won't work," I screamed. "He's dead."

"So are you," the cloaked figure said softly, and then a pale knife—glimmering in the moonlight—was drawn from the black folds.

...

-The Week-

...

And so it went on, one night, then the second night, and then the third. Four nights in a row.

Gwaine was busy, I could not see him, for his duties were stacking on top of each other and he was as stressed as I. Royal dignitaries were making routine visits, and Agravaine's presence seemed to demand a good show of working knights at all times even if they weren't needed. The night at a tavern seemed just a pleasant memory.

I was growing rather haggard looking, I'm afraid. The same dream on repeat—even if I awoke from the nightmare and fell asleep again, it returned to the point in which I left off. By the end of the second day, I had decided to give up on sleeping. After the fourth day, I'd successfully made it through two nights and three days with no sleep. It was beginning to show.

Terrin thought something had happened with Gwaine and I, and I told him he was always assuming the worst. Terrin didn't seem to be upset that I lost my temper, but he didn't speak to me for the rest of the day.

Thea tried making me tea before bed, but nothing worked. Bit grew a little distant, as I looked grayer, older, and more tired with each passing day. She looked suspicious, but still cared enough to try and make remedial suggestions. Ella thought I had been poisoned, and I quickly put a stop to that notion. Mrs. Stewart threatened me with quarantine unless I explained to her why I looked sickly.

Finally, on a Saturday morning, I was walking like one dead through the kitchen, trying to focus my blurry eyes on the objects I was supposed to place in a salt barrel. I stumbled for no apparent reason, and my armful of paper-wrapped meats fell to the floor.

I was sent to bed in the middle of the afternoon, and Gaius was requested to pay a visit to the servants' quarters as quickly as possible. I'd never been so embarrassed in my life.

...

-Bed Chamber –

...

"But I'm her roommate," Thea was saying loudly.

"I'll update you on anything you need to know," Merlin said loudly, finally succeeding in gently pushing her out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

"Ah," Gaius said slowly. "Now then—we have some privacy."

"It's the dreams again, isn't it?" Merlin asked gently, sitting at the end of my bed. I glanced worriedly at Gaius. "It's alright, you can trust him," he said.

"But he is the King's physician," I protested.

"Just tell him what you told me."

Gwaine couldn't have possibly known that his suggestion to trust more would be tested so soon. It was, certainly, a cruel twist of fate that I'd be expected to trust someone so close to the king with the mildly-prophetic situations.

Breathing a silent prayer that I wouldn't be accused of sorcery, I gave Gaius the brief story of my strange dreams, and the fruition of one. Then I attempted to describe my sleepless nights in the past week, unable to shed any light on what the current dream might mean.

"It's all just random nonsense to me," I said. "But it's so frightening I just try to stay awake. I'm getting pretty good at it."

"Working the hours you do?" Gaius said, disapprovingly. "Not likely. I can't stop dreams, but I can make you sleep deeply. Would you like to try a remedy of mine?"

"I guess it can't be any worse."

Merlin pulled a small bottle out of Gaius's bag. "Just take a sip before bedtime."

I took it from him and put it on the small table between the beds. Sighing, I leaned my head back on the headboard and looked up at the ceiling.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked sullenly. In my peripheral vision, I saw Merlin and Gaius exchange a knowing look. "What?" I added. "What _is_ wrong with me?"

"It's too early to know anything," Gaius said. "You're young. Young people have trouble with sleep all the time. Just take the potion for the next few days, and we'll see how you feel. Come see me before next Saturday."

-Another Dream-

I saw the dead, bloated face of Teller's wife. I saw the face of the child, killed, who wanted to be a healer. I never saw their faces in my actual lifetime, but whatever faces my subconscious invented, I accepted. Their faces were wiped away by something like fog, and then, a laugh floated merrily between the trees.

"We can be sensational," said Her voice.

...

-Courtyard –

...

The bells chimed three hours after midnight. I paced back and forth. Walking, side to side, down one hall, up another, losing count of the steps I took, trying to concentrate on what the dreams might mean. At this hour—in this mental deterioration—I was almost ready to accept the possibility of magic, and say to the voice, "You win! You _win! _I accept my magic. Do your worst with it."

But I could never bring myself to say something like that. I had everything to lose—my job. My new friends. Even my life would be at stake.

King Uther would have me snuffed out like a candle.

...

-The Stables –

...

There was a glimmer of light in the stables. Brightened at the thought of sane conversation with an uninvolved person, perhaps a young stable worker or a hound master, with a clear mind and simple logic. My usual self might avoid strangers, but my sleepless self seemed to be eager to make more friends and add to my slightly successful record as of late.

I followed the flicker of torch fire and walked through the doorway, looking around with—I assume—a very helpless, skeletal expression.

"Madam," said a surprised voice. It was Sir Leon, wearing plain clothes, bent over the hoof of his favorite horse. He patted the horses shoulder and stepped towards me. "What are you doing in here at this hour?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said simply.

"Who's that?" said a voice in the back. Sir Lancelot's head popped over a stall wall.

"It's me, Wren," I said, hoping that he'd remember who I was.

"Oh, of course," Sir Lancelot said pleasantly. "Merlin said you weren't feeling well—how are you?"

"I'm in the barn at three past," I said gloomily. "I could always improve."

"Not feeling well?" said a third voice. On recognition, I grinned stupidly.

Gwaine's head popped over another stall wall, much closer to the back. "Who's not feeling well?" he asked, clearly having been left out of Merlin's physician gossip.

"I'm not," I said honestly, shrugging.

"Huh!" Gwaine said with sudden frustration, shuffling about in the straw, and disappearing behind the wall again. Sir Lancelot chuckled.

"Um, please accept my wishes for your health," Sir Leon said kindly. "I'm sure you know—if Sir Lancelot or Sir Gwaine can help you with anything, you need only ask? I'd offer my services but I'm afraid I'm wanted in the throne room."

"Thank-you," I said sincerely. "Don't let me keep you."

Sir Leon bowed to me, and gave his horse one more pat, and left the stable. _I swear, that knight must treat every girl like a lady. He can't have met me this many times and still mistake me for a noblewoman. It's official—he is just the finest gentleman in Camelot. _

"Don't go away!" came Gwaine's voice, still hidden somewhere in the darkness of the barn. "I just have to—ugh—finish this…"

"Take your time, I'll wait," I said.

Sir Lancelot seemed to finish his job. He pulled an empty bucket out of the stall, marched over to the other side, and placed it on a shelf. Near the shelves in the back, where no horses were kept, there were piles of hay beside piles of straw. The difference was in the sage green of the feed, and the yellow stalks that provided their bedding.

"Uh," Sir Lancelot said slowly, gesturing to me. "I know this isn't much, but perhaps you'd like to sit down?" He took a large, dusty saddle-blanket and placed it over one of the piles. "If this were a parlor, it'd be easier to entertain company. Unfortunately, the knights don't get a parlor. We have to make do with what we have."

I picked my feet through the straw and plopped down into the blanketed pile, sighing with the relief it was to sit down after pacing for God-knows how long.

"Oh, thank-you," I said. "Surprisingly comfy, isn't it?"

Sir Lancelot laid another blanket down, across from me. He sat upon it heavily, sighing as well. "Aye," he said, "It is!"

"So what are you all doing up so late?" I asked.

"The three of us were assigned a late night patrol," Sir Lancelot answered. "Prince Arthur calls it _bandit season, _so we have routine checks along the royal road. We've had reports of some minstrels, thieves, a few grave robbers, and passing gypsies—so it's best to check more often than less. But due to the hour—Lord Agravaine's idea, I think—we didn't even bother with armor."

Gwaine finally stumbled out of his stall, pushing his long hair away from his face and throwing a horse-hair brush down to the floor with abandon. "I bloody hate brushing around their feet," he said heartily.

"Do you mean their hooves?" Sir Lancelot corrected with a laugh.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "If they walk with 'em, they're feet." He marched over to me, plopped down beside me, and pulled my legs over his lap.

"Now then," he said, playing a rhythm on my shins with his hands. "Tell me—_Wren—_why you are in the stables at this hour? And why everyone seems to think you are in poor health?"

I leaned against the barn wall, trying to relax. Gwaine's proximity was surprising, yet, it felt very natural to be close in this way, with his agitated fingers playing a drumbeat and Sir Lancelot not shocked or offended in any way.

"I haven't slept in nearly four days now," I said, even now catching the ugliness of my voice that only came with sleeplessness.

Even Gwaine was surprised. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"More nightmares," I tried to say as casually as possible. "They're nothing, of course, just a nuisance. Gaius gave me some potion—which I tried to avoid—but I took some, and it did keep me sleeping until just after midnight—then I found myself out here, trying to get some fresh air."

"Gaius prescribed you a potion? You had to see the physician?" Gwaine exclaimed, a little astounded.

"I didn't want to," I said, "I was sent to my chambers in the middle of the work day and they requested…"

"Gaius had to urgently see you in the middle of work and no one thought to tell me?" Gwaine cried, affronted.

"I assumed you knew," Sir Lancelot said apologetically. "Merlin just mentioned it to me off-hand. I hope you don't think we gossip regularly, Wren…"

"But no one told me!" Gwaine repeated.

"Our relationship isn't exactly public knowledge," I snapped, and realized it was the first time—out loud—that I said the words _our relationship. _

Gwaine wasn't satisfied. "Merlin could have mentioned it to _me _off-handedly."

"Am I supposed to keep you informed of my medical discrepancies?" I asked sourly.

"No," Gwaine whined right back. "I just think an urgent visit from the physician isn't nice to be surprised with."

"I'm just glad you found us here," Sir Lancelot said eagerly, trying to smooth ruffled feathers. "You ought not to wander around the castle alone. For no other reason except that it is lonely to do so."

Gwaine caught my hands up with his, jerked me towards him, and wrapped his large arms around me. Then he shifted, so that he could lean his back on the wall and I could settle comfortably against his chest like a small child. His chin nestled right on the top of my head. "No need to be lonely on a sleepless night."

"Thank-you," I said, listening to his heartbeat. _Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. _

"Shouldn't you go to bed, Sir Lancelot?" Gwaine asked.

Sir Lancelot straightened his arms, yawned, and settled even farther back against the wall. "Hmm—no. I'm your chaperone."

I could imagine Gwaine squinting one eye open, and glancing at him critically. "You're doing a fine job."

"Yes," Sir Lancelot said, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Yes, I am."

Gwaine laughed easily and only held me closer, one hand intertwined with mine.

He and Lancelot began talking in low voices, and I did not partake in the conversation. I tried to concentrate on Gwaine's hands, holding my own, a comforting feeling of being close and held by someone who was often mistaken for being so careless and yet had the biggest heart of them all.

All too soon, Gwaine was mumbling "I should escort you to your room," and kissing the top of my head.

"Wait—what time is it?" I exclaimed.

"Relax," Gwaine said slowly. "We've been sitting here for an hour."

"Oh, thank goodness," I said, deflated. I fell back against him, and Gwaine snickered. "But I do have to go," I said, after a moments pause.

"I know," Gwaine said, a smile in his voice.

"I should go now."

"Alright, alright," Gwaine relented, groaning. He shuffled to his feet, stretching and brushing the straw from his brown pants. He casually kicked Sir Lancelot's boot. "Get up, chaperone," he said briskly.

Sir Lancelot inhaled deeply, a funny little smile on his face. The smile disappeared as he woke up fully, blinking in the gray light coming through the tiny windows. "I must have fallen asleep," he said sleepily. "Nothing happened, right?"

"Of course not!" I squeaked indignantly, accepting Gwaine's hand. Gwaine pulled me to my feet, picking a piece of long yellow straw out of my hair.

...

-Sunday –

...

When I woke up, Thea was staring at me anxiously, sitting not an arms length from my face.

"Whoa," I mumbled. "Is there a staring contest?"

"Nope," Thea's large eyes were bright. "It's just you've slept in late."

"It's Sunday," I said, blinking. "Isn't that okay?"

"Of course! But you've slept so long and well! I hope this means no more bloody nightmares," Thea said. "I heard you get up early this morning. Did the walking help?"

"Perhaps," I said, "I ran into Gwaine coming back from a late night patrol. I spent a little time in the stable with Sir Lancelot and he. Maybe the company tired me out."

"You can always wake me up if you need to," Thea offered. "Gwaine won't always be coming back from patrols at the proper time."

"That is true. Thanks."

"So if you're awake…" Thea trailed off.

"No, I'm talking in my sleep."

"I mean—if you're really awake—and feeling better—please _please _say you'll come eat lunch with Bit and I."

"Lunch?"

"It's late, sleepy head! You missed breakfast."

"Oh—yeah. When?"

"Right now!"

I looked around with a yawn. "Ugh—I'm not dressed or anything. I still have to go say sorry to Terrin for exploding at him yesterday."

"Mere excuses," Thea waved it off. "Get dressed. Say sorry for losing your temper at Terrin. Then join us just outside the city gates—our usual spot."

"Alright, I will be there."

...

-Servant's Hall –

...

"Terrin?" I said slowly, finding him alone at the table.

"Yes, Wren?" Terrin said, looking up without expression.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry for what I said yesterday."

"It was true, I do always assume the worst."

"But it's not my place to call you out on it," I said. "For that, I am sorry."

Terrin shook his head ruefully. "I do not wish to throw my position in your face, but I do hope this won't happen again."

"It won't, I promise. It was disrespectful and I'm sorry."

Terrin laughed a little. "No—not that. _I'm _sorry for thinking the worst of Sir Gwaine. It's not fair to him. I meant that I hope you won't suffer a sleepless crises again. It's not your fault that you can't sleep very well—but it is your responsibility to _care _for yourself, too."

"Yes sir."

"That means no post-midnight walks," Terrin said, looking back at the grain of the wood table. "Stay in bed and rest if you can't sleep. Don't wander around alone."

"I should've asked permission first. Again, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Thank-you for apologizing."

I paused. "Um… thank-you for apologizing, too."

"Don't spend too much energy today," Terrin added. "I know it's your day off, but you must be tired. Don't over do it—we'll need all hands to help this week."

"I won't let you down again," I said, curtsying. I turned and walked quickly out of the hall, feeling ashamed of myself. Terrin was right, of course. I may be a victim of magical nightmares but it shouldn't be used as an excuse for everything. I felt properly chided.

...

-the Woods –

...

Out of the city gates on the other side of the Lower towns, there is a road that winds between two embankments of ferns. Climbing up the embankment, a small deer path leads away from the road and to a clearing where there are a few charred stumps from the last dragon attack. It is here that Thea, Bit, and I enjoyed taking a picnic lunch once a week. Where we sat was a stone's throw from the castle walls, and we felt quite safe from any rumors of bandits or other dangers.

The fresh air felt cool and invigorating in my lungs. The clouds hung low and light, mildly gray but nothing containing rain. The woods were thick with lush growth, bird chirps, and the crackling of ivy as the wind rustled it.

I stepped out of the gates, sighing with the relief of being outdoors. It's surprising how small the castle begins to feel after living in the lower towns for a few months, and how wide and wondrous the world outside the walls seem.

There was a woman in the distance, walking purposefully down the dirt road. She wore a plain, brown cloak, left the hood off and carried a small basket. We both walked towards each other, and I hesitated. I was reaching the deer-path turn off, and felt slightly weird about leaving the road just when we'd cross paths.

The woman was older, perhaps forty, with brown hair and white wisps. She had a kind face, and she smiled and waved.

"Afternoon," she called. Her voice sounded unnaturally sweet and fluid, as if she'd been drinking honey water for weeks.

"Afternoon," I replied politely.

"I'm selling my wares in the city," she told me. "I don't suppose you'd like to be my first customer of the day?"

"I don't have a lot of money," I said, "What are your wares?"

"Souls, spells, and potions," she said, with a chuckle.

I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach, but I remained where I was, frozen. She crossed the last few feet towards me, so we stood in the middle of the road.

"Just kidding, deary," she said quickly, at my horrified expression. "I sell bracelets!"

It took me a moment to find my voice. "I—I…"

"Oh, not fond of bracelets?" she said, saddened.

"No—uh—they're fine—it's just," I stuttered, "You shouldn't, shouldn't make jokes like that. Magic is illegal in Camelot and there is heavy punishments for—well, any joke that can be misunderstood."

"Most magic is misunderstood," said the woman, unsmiling.

"That might be so, but you'd best never speak of it—not while you're in the city," I hissed. "For your own sake. Haven't you heard of King Uther? Where are you from, anyway?"

"Aw," said the woman, touched. "You care about my safety?"

"I guess so," I said, confused.

"That's terribly sweet of you," said the woman silkily. "Tell you what? I will make you a promise. I won't make any magic jests while I am in the city."

"Your life might depend on it," I said, not finding it as amusing as she did.

"You're very convincing, my dear."

"Uh—thanks?" She made me uncomfortable. I wanted to join Thea and Bit, but I wanted this woman to move on towards the city first.

"My name is Fervania," she said, holding out a hand.

"Wren," I said, reaching out to clasp her hand. I felt as if a jolt of energy ran from her fingers up through my arm and to my shoulder. I jerked my hand back, and stared at her.

She didn't even react.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Wren," she said pleasantly.

"And you," I replied, but I wasn't sure if that was a lie or not. _Finally?_

She began to walk away, paused, and turned and looked at me critically. "Don't I look familiar?" she asked, suddenly.

"We've never met," I said, a little too quickly.

"No," she said, "But maybe we have. Who is your mother?"

"I don't know," I said, shortly. "I didn't know my parents."

"Your aunt and uncle never spoke of them?" she asked. "At all?"

"No," I repeated, fear unfolding slowly within me. "How did you know I stayed with my aunt and uncle? I never said anything about them."

Again, she didn't react. Her face was so passive, I wondered if she even heard me.

"How did you know?" I demanded, loudly.

She only smiled, tapped the side of her nose, and said, "I'm smarter than I look. I know these things."

I clenched my hands into fists. "I'll ask you again. How did you know? We've never met."

She gave me a sympathetic smile. "Oh, but we did. Once."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I had a little girl once," Fervania said slowly, her smile frozen like a painting.

"I did not know her, since I did not have any playmates as a child," I assured her.

"That's a shame," Fervania sighed. "I would have hoped your aunt and uncle would give you a happy childhood."

I knew exactly what was happening.

I felt it twisting, sickening, lacing my gut with the audacity of her hints.

But I denied it. I had to deny it, just for a little longer.

"It's hard to be happy when your parents have abandoned you," I said, trying to hold back a swelling mixture of rage and sadness.

"True," she said. "And you don't recognize me?"

"No," I repeated. "_Never,_" I added, hotly.

"Oooh, bitter, aren't we?" she said, backing away slowly. Her voice had a taunting sound. The only thing that kept me from fleeing for my life was the fact that her voice did not match the voice of my nightmares. _It's her. It's not Her. _

"All things considered," I said stiffly, "I think I turned out rather well."

Fervania glanced back at the city gates, and back at me. "Good for you," she said, with bored enthusiasm. "But I must get to the market before all the good customers have gone." She turned with a cheerful wave, and began to walk away.

"Goodbye," I said, darkly. "Mother."

She stopped. Without turning back, she said lightly, "Then—you do know me?"

"I don't know you," I corrected. "I'm just smarter than I look."

She laughed loudly, looked to the sky, and shook her head with a gleeful kind of disbelief. "I knew you'd figure it out," she said, and kept on walking.

"Is this the only time I will ever see you?" I called after her. "Or are you going to leave me with all these questions?"

Sighing, she turned again. "Rising Sun," she said. "When the market closes. Meet me there, and we shall have our talk."

"Can I hold you to that?" I said, with a doubtful smirk.

"I don't break promises," she said seriously. With that, she disappeared through the gates.

I felt the air rush out of me. I sat, hard, in the middle of the road. My hands were shaking, I laced my fingers together to keep them still. I felt like I was sleeping.

This had to be a dream. I'd wake up any minute now.

Any minute now.

...

...

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><p><strong>Eek! I am terribly excited. As you can tell. My plot bunnies are bouncing around in their cages as if someone waved a carrot nearby. Please review!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Personal review replies:<strong>

**StarryNight359: **I'm glad you like Terrin! I'm rather fond of him myself.

**Logical Fallacy: **Wow, your name is Thea? That's AMAZING! I picked out the name because it seemed so beautiful and rare… is it short for anything?

**Merlinisawesome: **I have a possible plan for Terrin's love life… hehe

**Guest: **Yes, I see your point. That is good advice. It's only just become plot driven—before it was character driven, and then the plot just exploded in my head, so it sort of makes sense that I'm very nearly finished with the novel and yet nothing has really happened. The climax approaches soon though!


	25. The Rising Sun III

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Thank-you so much all for your consistent reviews. I've been awfully busy lately but time is freeing up in the future for more writing. **

**Love to all,**

**Pip**

**PS: This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, more like the beginning chapters of this story.**

* * *

><p>…<p>

-The Woods-

…

I didn't say much, but I was a good actor. Thea and Bit only asked me what was wrong once, and I shook myself from a passing thought, and acted as if nothing happened.

…

-The Market-

…

Gwaine caught my hand as I ran quickly by. "Wren!" he exclaimed happily.

"I'm so, so sorry," I said, "I can't stop. I'm late."

"Late for what? It's your day off."

"Gwaine, I'm sorry. We'll speak later, all right?" I detached his hand from mine, give him an apologetic smile, and made my way to the tavern.

…

-The Rising Sun-

…

I thought my mother lied. I did not find her in the tavern, at first.

But she was there, wearing her cloak with the hood drawn up. I caught a glint of her eyes just as I was turning to leave after a frustrated search.

"Fervania," I greeted, walking towards her, and sitting across from her. She was sitting in the exact place where Gwaine and I sat for our dinner. I felt as if she were disturbing sacred ground.

"You won't call me mother?" she asked, like a taunt.

"No," I said.

"Did you have to tell many lies to get here?" she added.

"I am permitted to do what I will on my day off," I said. "And I used to work here. It is not uncommon for me to visit."

Fervania squinted one eye, sizing me up. "I would not have placed you for a barmaid."

"I have a new position," I said, without clarifying. "But I'd rather not talk about my work. I'd rather talk about you."

"Oh, alright," Fervania smiled, as if it were a compliment. She folded her hands together. "What would you like to know?"

"Why have I not seen you before now?" I asked.

"I lived far away," she said, simply.

"Where?"

"A small place," she did not elaborate like I hoped.

"And you don't sell things in the city, do you?" I said. "I've been through the market many a time. And I've never seen you."

"You are smart, like me," Fervania tapped her fingers against the table in a slow, steady rhythm, one finger at a time. Her hands looked familiar. They were like mine. "I _did _sell wares in the city today. But I just needed a little money. Today was about finding you."

"You came to Camelot with the sole purpose of finding me? Some sort of test to see if I would recognize you?"

"Something like that, the heart does foolish things," Fervania smiled, demurely.

"And what made you think I would recognize you?" I asked.

"I would prefer not to answer that, just yet."

"I was an _infant _when you left."

"You were a child. We left you in the care of your aunt and uncle—though it seems you are not under their care anymore?" she gave a pointed look to Evoric at the bar. Whatever she had been doing in the market all day, she had certainly done her research.

"They died," I said.

"My brother was always meant to die young," she responded callously. "His wife, too. They did not have much to look for in the future. Those sort always meet a sooner end." She smiled, and Evoric delivered her food. He did not question who my friend was, he must have assumed she worked with me in the palace. He squeezed my shoulder kindly as he left us.

I wanted to call her out on her cold-heartedness, but their death had affected me little, as well. Perhaps I was callous for not drowning in any grief when they passed. But working as a maidservant had already been my life, and family was one of my least concerns at the time.

She was eating now, shoveling food into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in ages.

"This small place of yours," I inferred, "You don't exactly live in plenty, do you?"

"No," she said, continuing to eat.

"So why did you leave Camelot? You could have lived honestly, and with comfort. And… with better food."

Fervania looked up at me, her gaze a mixture of hatred and something that looked like fear. "I could not stay. And neither could your father."

"So I _do _have a father?" I exclaimed. "Where is he?"

Fervania smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask. Would you like to meet him?"

I took a deep breath. "Why did he not come with you today?"

She was still smiling, but seemed very interested in only answering the questions she liked the best. "I'd like to be a family again."

"I don't think we can be a family unless I know why you left me here in the first place," I said hotly. "A family without honesty is not a family. It's an arrangement."

She raised her eyebrows briefly. "I never intended on keeping that a secret from you. It's just not the appropriate time." She glanced around. "I would like for your Father and I to talk it over with you. Together."

"And answer all of my questions?"

"Of course," Fervania looked a little hurt. "Honestly, Wren. This isn't supposed to be easy. Do you think this is easy for me? Of course it isn't. But if you want to know everything—and I mean, everything—I think it's important for us to be together. You know, I always imagined—if we could have kept you—that you would have been your Father's little girl, even more than mine. He called you _princess_ while you were in the cradle. Maybe he will be a better communicator than I."

_I was my father's princess, _I thought, on the verge of sudden tears or a terrible temper. I knew not which. _And he's out there, somewhere._

"Don't you think that is _right?_" Fervania said passionately. "I think it's safe for us to meet you again."

"Safe?"

"Yes, safe. I think it is safe for the three of us to finally talk, answering your questions, and putting matters to rest. You're nearly twenty-one, you know."

"You left me when the Great Purge began," I said, attempting to sound casual. "I do wonder at the strange fact that such two events coincided."

"Strange indeed," Fervania said slowly. "Now it seems we are in agreement? You'd like to meet your Father. We can tell you Our story."

"Yes," I said, biting my lip. "I want to know what happened."

"I'm sure we shall clear a long time of wonder and confusion for you."

"I'm stronger than you think," I said grimly. "I did not wonder about you, I did not lay awake at nights obsessing over it. My life was my own, and it did not include you. Now it does, and I am adjusting accordingly, which means consenting to this meeting, and hopefully another, with my father."

Fervania laughed. "Easy enough to say, but I can see you are not without your fear of abandonment."

I immediately thought of Gwaine. "Growing up without you has its repercussions, all right," I admitted. "But I knew your leaving was no fault of mine. So I did not blame myself nor find faults with you."

"As you wish, then," Fervania said, a little stiffly. She glanced around the tavern, sighed, and placed a few coins beside her empty plate. "I am going to get a room here, at the inn, tonight," she said. "Will you meet me again in the morning, for breakfast?"

"Is five too early?" I said, hiding a smile.

"That is very early! Why?"

"My duties begin not long after. I cannot miss work."

"Very well, then, an early breakfast," Fervania slipped out of the bench, straightened her cloak, and gave me a stiff nod. "Till the morrow, then."

"Goodnight," I said, suppressing a sudden shiver. I watched her as she went to the counter, spoke to Evoric, and paid her dues. I watched the back of her cloak as it disappeared up the stairs. Avoiding Evoric's gaze, I got up and went for the back exit, that opened onto an alley.

…

-the Alley-

…

Just as I slipped through the door, I sensed a figure follow me out, nearly stepping on my heels. Startled, I leapt around, and a cloaked figure was standing directly behind me.

I yelped in surprise, nearly falling over backwards. The person fought a giggle, and Gwaine lowered his hood.

"Gwaine!" I exclaimed angrily. "I nearly hit you as hard as I could and ran for it."

"All the better if you had," Gwaine said, taking my wrist and pulling me into a tight, burly hug. He swayed from side to side, growling into my hair, "You devilish creature. What were you doing?"

I stepped back. "Did you follow me?"

"Perhaps."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"Will you be angry if I did?" Gwaine said cheekily.

"I think I'd be relieved if I didn't have to explain anything," I said, my adrenaline dropping. It was replaced by a drained feeling akin to old age. "What do you know?"

"You avoided seeing me tonight," Gwaine said, "Because you were meeting your mother instead—who, in my opinion, seems manipulative and emotionally distressing for you. Am I close?"

"Very close," I said. "Why did you follow me?"

"If I ran by you, said I couldn't see you, and ran straight to the tavern with a panicked look in my eyes—would you follow me?"

"Maybe."

"Of course you would. Don't lie. So I did. I wasn't going to eavesdrop, I just sat nearby, and figured I would catch you when you were finished and buy you a drink. But surprisingly, I couldn't help but overhear, and you disappeared before I could ask you to stay. And now here we are—in a dark, cold alley," Gwaine grinned.

"How are you always so cheerful?" I asked, giggling.

"I'm not always cheerful," Gwaine said, "I have my bad days. Come here." He pulled me into his arms again, running his fingers through my long hair. "So, are you all right?"

"Better now," I said, laying my head against his chest.

"Do you need a hanky or something?" Gwaine said, with a confused edge to his voice. Gwaine didn't seem the type to go for a particularly weepy girl.

"No," I scoffed. "I don't cry. See? You cheered me up."

"I am a success with most things I set out to accomplish," Gwaine boasted.

"Can you successfully walk me home?"

"You don't want to come back inside for a drink? Alright, alright, I know—early morning breakfast—come on, then." He held out his arm, and I wrapped mine around his. We walked closely together, and Gwaine told me funny stories from his training that day to make me laugh.

…

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><p><strong>softballgirl: <strong>Fluff definitely isn't one of my stronger points but it's kinda fun! Thanks for the review =)

**merlinisawesome: **I think we will see more of Gwen in part 2. She's mostly taking care of Uther during the day, spending some time with Arthur in the evenings, and then going to her home in the Lower Towns to sleep. That's why she and Wren don't see much of each other.

**Sunidlight: **I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

**ReadingRaven019: **So you're basically my partner in crime now. You shall know all my plot secrets… ;)

**Logical Fallacy: **You'll have to wait and see what becomes of Wren's potential for magic. =) I can tell you that she wants to remain as normal as possible, though.

**MaerwynnRegina: **Yeah the romance was a little unexpected so I know I have the potential of upsetting hardcore Gwaine fans, but we'll see =) I try to do OCs honor by making Wren an honest character.

**Alaia Skyhawk: **She is still confused… I feel like such a mean author, but if I reveal the right parts of the mystery at the right time, it means she has to be confused for a bit longer… but no worries, all shall reveal itself in due time!


	26. Conclusion: The Nightmare

**Dearest Reviewers,**

**I would like to humbly welcome you to the grand finale of Part One of _Maliciousness & Misunderstanding. _This chapter is the somewhat epic conclusion to the tale of Wren's greater misunderstanding and the maliciousness yet to be revealed. It's an extra long chapter, about 20 pages single-spaced to be exact. Far cry from the beginning of the novel, isn't it?**

**Part Two will continue in this same venue (I will not begin a 'new story' for the sequel) and it will be, for the greater part, Wren's story during Series 4. As I have not begun the story yet, I am open for suggestions or questions, so feel free to PM me. I love you all quite dearly. My inspiration to keep writing (both fan fiction and my own original work) would be quite gray without you. Thank-you so much, for all your feedback.**

**Happy reading!**

**Pippin**

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><p><strong>Fair warning: Some of the content might be disturbing. I'd say PG-13. Or T. Or TV-14. Or A for Awesome. Whatevs. <strong>

* * *

><p>...<p>

-The Nightmare-

...

It was with an overwhelmed heart that I made my plans for meeting my mother.

I asked Terrin if he would wake me earlier than the other maids, and he was obligated to ask why. After all, it was a work day, and we had a schedule to abide to.

"I will be back in time for work," I said, "My mother is visiting Camelot and has asked if I will join her for breakfast."

"That is well, then," Terrin said, pausing for a moment in his efforts to replace the small kegs of wine into their shelves. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"I was unaware that you were in contact with your mother. When Evoric and Ella hoped you'd be given a position here, they almost had us believe that they considered themselves to be your guardians. May I ask why that is?" He was asking for the purpose of being an honest worker, but I could tell he was curious, too.

"I don't fully know the answer myself," I said. "Evoric and Ella have tried to take care of me, ever since I stopped working for the Lady Deanna. My guardians—my aunt and uncle—have not been alive these past several years. And, I was unaware that my parents were alive until… yesterday."

"Good lord," Terrin said, astounded. "What happened?"

"I… met my mother on her way to the market. It didn't take long for me to realize who she was."

"Have you an explanation for their absence?"

"No, but I hope to get one during breakfast."

"By all means, then," Terrin shook himself out of his wide-eyed gape. "I will wake you up all the earlier."

"I will tell you what I learn," I promised.

"No!" Terrin said, a little too quickly. He corrected himself. "I mean, it is your business. I ought not to snoop. But I hope—whatever you learn—it will be of some benefit to you."

"I hope so too," I said with a sigh. "Thank-you, Terrin."

"Till the morning, then."

He woke me up at a perfect time, and said there was tea for me in the kitchen. I was touched at his kindness. I made a note to, one day, ask him about _his _family. It was impolite to question him about it, but I was curious. I drank my tea, and he prepared boiling water for the porridge in silence. But he did give me a brief smile when I stood to leave and thanked him again for going out of his way. He replied that he hoped I had the best of luck. It was a far cry from the stress and judgment he seemed to possess a few nights ago.

…

Nothing smells of morning quite like the wood smoke rising from the torches being extinguished. The gray dawn breached the darkness and the working class awakened, preparing their shops and their victuals for their customers and their masters. It is a surprising twilight before breakfast, full of quiet acceptance for a day just like any other.

But I knew today was different. I woke up from a dreamless sleep, knowing upon this day I was to speak to my mother—my real mother—again, and hopefully question her further about my father. Even before I slept, thoughts of a terrible trick or con ran across my mind. But there was no mistaking she was my mother. She had my hands and I had her eyes.

…

The tavern felt airy. Evoric opened all the windows and let the cool breezes come in and cleanse the smoke out. Morning light flittered in and made the seating cheerier, brushing away the seediness of a tavern at nightfall.

This time, I was early. I sat down first, and waved to Evoric at the counter. Ella was checking the receipts from the night before, kissing her husband, and walking out the front door. She stopped and smiled at me. "Extra day off?" she asked.

"No, I'll be in at the usual time," I assured her. "Getting some breakfast here instead. I'll see you in the kitchen."

Ella nodded and left. Evoric came around the counter and put down two small plates of dried ham and steaming egg. "Been seeing you mor'n often lately," he said, brushing a small crumb from the table. "Meetin' the knight?"

"No, I'm meeting my new acquaintance," I said, unable to squeeze out the phrase _my mother. _

"Oh, excellent, excellent," Evoric nodded enthusiastically. "Hope she comes back again for more visits. The inn can always use more customers."

I handed him some money. "I'll pay for this one."

"On the house!"

"Evoric, you've got to stop giving me free favors. I don't work here anymore."

"If we were family, you'd get the discount anyhow."

I chuckled. "Let me pay this once. I have a guest, after all."

Evoric reluctantly took my coins. "That means a small drink for you and your knight for free next time."

"You're impossible."

"What would you do without us?"

"Probably die. Thank-you, Evoric."

"Don' mention it, Wren," Evoric pocketed the money, winked, and left.

"He's friendly," came Fervania's voice as she stepped off the last stair and walked towards the table. She looked troubled, but she walked with resolution, somehow. "Seems parental figures haven't been missing entirely from your life."

"I can't tell if this is some sort of jab in your humor," I said, losing the wish to smile at her and say good morning. "Or if you are trying to bait me for some sort of conversation topic."

"Neither, just an observation," she said down fluidly. "You… bought breakfast already?"

"Might as well have," I said, "This is the only thing available this early in the morning."

"Well, thank-you," Fervania said uncertainly. She folded a napkin and tasted the ham. "Hm, dry," she muttered. She put down her fork and beamed at me. "So tell me, you work this morning? What kind of work is it?"

"I'm just a kitchen maid," I said, not entirely eager to discuss my position.

Fervania looked over my shoulder, towards the front of the large room. I followed her gaze, turning slightly in my chair, and looking toward another table. Evoric was serving tea to two other inn guests, laughing heartily with them. I do not know why she stared at him with such interest. "What are you looking at?" I asked. There was a small flash of light behind me, and I whirled quickly around.

The candle in the center of our table seemed to glow the brighter, and the flame was higher than before. Fervania was blinking rapidly, the glow of the flame reflected in her eyes.

"Just as I thought," she said flippantly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"This candle is cheaply made," she said, with some judgment. "I spent a whole summer making and selling candles once. It's almost all flame and no scent at all." She was still blinking, as if there was something in her eyes.

"Have you a question about Evoric?" I asked.

"No, no, I shan't bother him," she said. "I just wonder if he makes his own candles."

"I think not," I answered, frankly, disturbed by her whimsy. "What about your work?" I asked, eager to change subjects. "I see you sell… something?"

"Trinkets mostly," Fervania waved a hand. "I've made earrings from seashells, cutlery made from animal bone, little cosmetics from charcoal and rose petals, perfume from violet and lavender extracts… I dabble in strange little things."

"And what does my father think of it?" I asked, hoping to move the conversation back to him, and when we could possibly meet together.

Fervania smiled at me. "He thinks not of it. He cares deeply for the soil in the ground."

"Then he is a farmer?" I said, wondering as much.

She raised her eyebrows. "I can tell where this is headed. I shall say no more until we are all together as a family."

I cringed inwardly at the word family. Could we be family? There was something shrouded about her, something I didn't trust. Perhaps it _was _because of abandonment that my vision was clouded.

Fervania seemed to be fighting off a smile.

"Come on," I urged, "What makes you so… excited? Can you not share that with me, at least?"

"I'm afraid not," Fervania said. "I just look forward to the future, that is all. Can we not agree that it is wide open? That the possibilities are endless? Aren't _you _excited to meet your father?"

"Yes, I am. Shall we discuss when that is to be?"

"What about tonight?" Fervania suggested.

"So soon?" I exclaimed. "That would be… good. Very good. Yes, tonight."

Fervania and I finished off the last of our eggs and stood up.

"Walk with me," she said, with a motherly smile.

We walked out of the tavern and into the morning light. Our step was in perfect unison, and even as I subconsciously tried to break the pattern of our walk, they remained in sync.

"What is my father's name?" I asked.

"Edmond," Fervania said, with something like a blush.

"And you love him very much?"

"I cannot live without him," she replied.

"But you could live without me," I said, before I could stop myself.

"We had no choice," Fervania snapped. "Is this one of your humorous jabs?" she repeated my words from earlier. "Are you trying to bait me? I _told _you, your father and I will tell you everything."

…

By now, we reached the gates out of the Lower Towns, and into the woods.

"I'm sorry," I replied, meaning it. "I'm afraid I have a habit of lashing out when I feel I've been dealt an unfair blow in my life." _Poor Merlin. _

"I'm sure that makes working in the palace _really _difficult for you," Fervania snapped back sarcastically. I couldn't recall if I had actually told her whether I worked in the palace or not. If she had seen me leave with Gwaine through the window, or even asked around the market, it isn't unlikely she'd find out by other means.

I tried to quell my suspicion of motive for everything that flew from her mouth.

I escorted Fervania through the gates, and we walked a few paces down the forest road. The cloudy skies did little to light the forest, but the green haven needed none to make it beautiful. The breeze smelled fresh, which seemed to clear my head. Breakfast wasn't sitting well with me… I knew I was nervous while I spoke to my mother, but the feeling was bordering on sickly. Perhaps I was beginning to suffer from stomach cramps…

"Feeling all right?" Fervania asked, looking at me curiously.

"I'll be fine," I said, shaking my head. "Just feeling a little… warm."

"It's a cold morning, are you sure?"

"Just feeling a little sick, I'll be all right," I said, moving to the side of the road, and sitting on a small rock there. "So—um—" I said, with a deep breath. I moved a hand to my forehead and wiped away a trickle of sweat. "Where would you like to meet tonight? We cannot venture too far from Camelot, I have work tomorrow."

"I already told you," Fervania said, "I live a long way from here. We'll have to leave now if we are to reach him by nightfall."

"Now—now?" I asked dizzily. "I told you, I'm working. I can't leave right now."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," she said resignedly. She knelt down beside me, giving me a kindly smile. "That is why I've decided to _not _give you the choice."

A bird chirped. The leaves ruffled. I felt hit, in the side of the head.

"Excuse me?" I managed.

"If you want to meet your father, you should be committed to it," she said firmly. "The palace can wait. Work can wait. I _thought_ this was _important _to you."

"It is, it is," I said, words slurring together. "But—but—did you _do_ something to me?"

"Nothing bad, you ninny," Fervania grabbed me by the elbow and hoisted me, with surprising strength, to my feet. "I just… made a little addition to your breakfast, is all."

The candle flame wasn't reflecting in her eyes. Her eyes had just… glowed.

"What?" I said, trying to pull my arm from her grasp. "Like _what?"_

"Do you play dumb on purpose?" Fervania looked annoyed.

"Your eyes were glowing… there was nothing wrong with that candle. You were just trying to distract me."

"And of course, it worked," she seemed pleased. "Always do enchantments near fire, Wren—if perchance anyone sees your eyes light up, it can be a trick of the vision."

"You enchanted my breakfast?" I whispered in horror.

"Oh, you guessed, congratulations," Fervania rolled her eyes.

"With what?"

"Just something to make you more agreeable—don't worry, you won't die."

"I don't understand," I mumbled, completely woozy. The woods were tilting slightly, from left to right. The gates were out of sight, she was pulling me down the road. "Can't we wait?"

"I'm tired of waiting!" she literally screamed, turning on me, and shaking my shoulders harshly. "I'm _tired. _I need you now. But you wanted to be all responsible and glamorous in your little palace life, and so I did what was necessary."

"So you put a spell on my food…?" I tried to make sense of this. "And you… you have magic…"

"So do you, daughter," Fervania spit, jerking me beside her again and dragging me along behind her. "Keep up, won't you?"

"I can't go with you," I said, pulling back.

"A few more moments and you'll be completely incapable of doing anything yourself," Fervania said unsympathetically. With an iron grip, she pulled me off the road and walked for a few paces. Then she put her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle.

My head felt too heavy. I slipped to the ground, kneeling, having a rest. I felt exhausted and confused. Colors were beginning to smear together like a painting, melting in dragon's fire.

There was an answering whinny. Something dark galloped up from the trees, coming straight to Fervania. She held out at arm, brushed the neck of the horse, and whispered a loving word to it.

"Isn't he sweet?" she said down to me, the voice sounding of cold winds and whispers of the dead that roamed my dreams.

She had changed. It was as if I was hearing her for the first time.

"What… happened…" I asked hazily.

"I suppose all enchantments have their limitations," Fervania shrugged.

It was a rich, velvety voice. Manipulative, feminine, and dark. _The voice that haunted my nightmares._ The husk of her humble, troubled, farmer's wife tone had fallen away like chaff, leaving the dripping malice of Her voice.

The one who plagued my nightmares and asked me of death, of kingdoms, of what I could smell and see. She had been infiltrating my life for weeks. It was Her, and there was no mistaking it.

No more. She had no control over me, enchantment or no.

"Our transportation to your father," she said, patting the horse again. "Up we go," she added, pulling me up again. As soon as we were face to face, I pulled back a fist, and slammed it into the left side of her face as hard as I could. In her surprise she was knocked sideways, and I took the opportunity to run back for Camelot. I ran crookedly, and slowly, towards the road… away from her insanity…

"Wren…?" she called after me, in a delighted, teasing sort of voice, as if in a game of hide and seek. As if I hadn't just punched her as hard as I could.

I did not make it far. Something seemed to wrap around my ankles, jerk me backwards, and promptly throw me back onto the ground. _Damn magic…_

The wind was knocked out of me. I gasped, frozen, back hurting and head pounding.

"I'm going to make this very simple, Wren," Fervania said, her bloodied lip and golden eyes appearing in the view of branches and sky. "It's not really an abduction if you just come with me willingly. Why make this so difficult? First, it's _work work work, _and then a violent assault? Honestly! I'm your _mother, _can't we be civil?"

"Why?" I managed to choke out. "What do you mean by any of this?"

"I cannot let you waste my time," Fervania said. "It is a full moon tonight."

"Let me go," I begged, "Please. Let me go. I will come with you another time."

"There is no other time," Fervania said. "You have the listening skills of a dead beetle. _It is a full moon tonight. _And you do want to see your father, so I am doing you a favor." With that, she smiled. "Any moment now," she added, and black specks swarmed in, and I was losing consciousness.

It was the first time, that in falling asleep, the nightmare felt it was ending instead of beginning.

I awoke on the back of a horse. It was evening. Dusk was falling in lavender heaps of mist across distant mountains. I was long out of familiar territory. I had no idea where I was. We didn't even seem to be traveling on a road, but through a field. I could hear a creek, and we were going towards a line of trees. Entering another forest, one much darker, with thicker trees that intertwined and formed a hedge before us.

The horse was large enough to share two to the saddle. I was in front of Fervania, slumped over the saddle horn, face getting constantly bumped by the horse's neck and scratchy mane hair. My wrists were tied—bloody _tied_—together, and I tried to sit up.

"There, there, my darling," Fervania's true voice flickered like a lightening fork. "Almost there now. You've been asleep for awhile. Now, don't you feel better? After a nice long rest?"

I didn't reply.

"Of course you do," she said without my answer. "A long dreamless rest. I've long used your subconscious as a source of communication—this can only happen to magical folk, you know—but it seems your own visions have been clouding what you see. They've seemed dark, like nightmares, haven't they? Dreams _are _so fickle. Especially if one dreams of a future while your mother is trying to have a chat. It's all so mixed up, isn't it?"

"If I was, indeed, having visions," I said slowly, my voice hoarse and cracked. "It was your voice that made them nightmares. You and you alone have been _terrorizing _me. Do not pretend otherwise."

"So harsh!" laughed Fervania. "If you had just accepted my gift, it would not have been a problem."

"Then you did offer me prophecy?"

"Only to make you accept what was already inside of you," she said. "It's not really mine to give. You have magic whether you admit it or not. Though seeing how you live in Camelot, you probably wouldn't want to admit it anyway."

"Maybe some are born with magic," I said, "But someone can choose to keep it. I choose to have nothing to do with it."

"Which is, of course, stupid and irresponsible and not an OPTION," Fervania growled. She directed the horse towards the trees, and ducked slightly, to avoid black branches as we passed into it. "Tonight, you shall see how much you need magic—and how much magic needs you."

"Magic doesn't need anyone," I coughed.

"I need you, my dear little daughter," Fervania said, in a loving tone that made me feel sick again. "And I am the greatest sorceress that Magic has seen since Nimueh."

…

The horse pulled to a sudden stop. "How long have we been riding?" I asked blearily.

"All day," Fervania said, slipping off the horse daintily. Her voice sent chills running down my spine. She pulled me off the horse and led me between two thick trees that seemed to form an archway.

The forest was bleak and dark. Gray mist slithered between the leaves, shrouding the horse within seconds. I looked behind me, and could only see four or five trees before a thick fog bank. Fervania was leading me, none too gently, by my tied wrists down into a clearing. The clearing floor was covered with moss, and the closed heads of daisies and violets asleep for the night. There was a grave mound, grown over with the shimmering green, with a single stone marker.

"What is the meaning of this?" I asked.

"Read it," Fervania said harshly.

I looked down at the stone. It read; _Edmond, My Beloved_.

I didn't know what else I should have been expecting. Did I expect him to be waiting with open arms? Apologizing for Fervania's behavior? Did I hope he would untie my hands, hold me in his arms, and say, "How I've missed you, my darling"? Would he have turned to Fervania and say in horror, "What have you done to our daughter?" before explaining to me that she had gone mad twenty years ago, and he fled Camelot with her, to keep me safe from her magical insanity?

Whatever I had hoped… it was gone now, erased, falling away like a veil. Edmond—the man who was supposed to be my father—was dead, and she had me believe that I would meet him.

"No," I said, overcome. I jerked my wrists out of Fervania's grasp and went to the grave, kneeling beside it. She followed close behind, knelt beside me, and wrapped an arm around me. She whispered, "_Shhh. It's all right. We're bringing him back."_

I swallowed, turning towards her. "What—the—bloody—hell?"

Fervania smiled at me. "Magic is a miracle," she said, happily. "You'll see. I was given a gift—the sorceress, Nimueh, met with me the night we fled Camelot. She gave me a spell, and I've kept it, waiting for the right time to use it. I couldn't wait for just any full moon—I had to wait for a Howler's Moon, appearing once in twenty years. The moon looks normal, does it not? A shadow falls across it tonight, however. It is shaped like a wolf's head. Look at it—isn't it beautiful?"

I did not look. I realized—I had dreamed this. The grave in the clearing. Her hands, covered in rings that I hadn't noticed before. The only thing missing was…

She was drawing a dagger out of her cloak.

"No!" I shouted, struggling to get away. She seized my arms and before I could blink, drew the knife smartly against my hands. Both palms opened and began to bleed.

"Ow, ow," I exclaimed in shock, throwing myself backwards, trying to crawl away. "Why—why would you…"

"Oh, shut up, you whiny little brat," Fervania set the bloodied knife across her own hand, and gently pricked her finger. I squeezed my fists together, trying to block out the stinging sensation. She looked over at me, huddled at the edge of the clearing. "Oh, you're wondering why I only pricked my own finger?" she smiled. "That's for striking me earlier. Daughters shouldn't hit their mothers." Then she set the knife aside. "That's for later."

Then she looked up to the shimmer of the moonbeams in the fog, and began to recite something, like a poem, her voice wicked and harsh in the darkness.

"_The greatest innocent, a child who wishes to give life. _

_The hardest of workers, a farmer's wife…."_

She drew two vials from her pockets. She opened them up, emptied the scarlet contents over the grave.

"_You need not man, for it to return him, _

_Death has bidden two, it is enough sin."_

It was most certainly blood.

"_Replace them home, when their breathing has ceased. _

_Take one droplet of blood, and they'll leave you in peace…"_

She was the one who killed the little boy in Camelot, and Teller's wife. Sir Leon had nearly caught her in the cabin—and didn't he say it wasn't the Lady Morgana? He was right!

"_Now chant your words- Filikithrun, Winiseestrun._

_Bloodroot and Wood and Power not of One."_

"You have to stop this," I whispered. "_Fer—Mother. _Please, whatever you're doing—don't do it…"She only smiled at me and continued.

"_Within minutes of his last, and the spell said soon,_

_Do unto thus beneath a full Howler's Moon."_

She plunged the blade of the dagger into the bloodied spot on the dirt.

"_Blood of the mother, blood of the offspring,_

_With the two become three, he will be a King."_

She stood up, and brushed her hands on her dress. "It is done," she said gleefully. "And there is no need to try and dig him out. He'll appear out of the air, Nimueh said—any moment now, Wren. You'll meet your father."

There was something I couldn't shake. "You killed those innocent people in Camelot," I said, "Just to bring back someone who is dead?"

"I told you I couldn't live without him," she replied happily, looking around her into the dark woods. "And he shall be King. You will not be a servant any more. Don't you see? Together, we can be sensational. Camelot drove us out—for our magic—and we will return, the three of us. Can you imagine the power of three? Your father will sit upon the throne, and we will be happy. Together."

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing," I held my hands to my chest, trying to stop them from bleeding. "You're truly mad. You're a murderess and an animal. What about the cart maker? He wasn't a part of the spell—was he just killed for fun?"

"Cart maker?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I've never killed a cart maker! I am no murderess! Who commits murder, Wren? Senseless killers without justification, that is who. And what am I? I am a _soldier _for magic. Death happens in a war. With success must come sacrifice, and I am solely responsible for the useful death of only two insignificant people. You cannot kill for no reason, and that is what sets us apart. It must be for something sensational. You'll see—these people of Camelot did not die in vain! You will see your father rise from the grave!"

"No matter how you try to explain yourself," I hissed, "It will not matter. You are not my family. Never."

"Don't be absurd, we'll be family when he comes back. Uther is weak enough—the three of us can take Camelot. You shall tell us their moves before they make him with your gift of prophecy—I shall rid them of their soldiers and knights—and your father—oh, he is a great warlock, Wren! He can merely blink, and the entire royal court will burst into green flame that cannot be put out. He is incredible. Wait and see."

"You fled Camelot during the Great Purge," I said, "And left me behind. Because both of you had magic."

"And you did not," she said carelessly. "Or at least that's what we thought. But we reached each other in your dreams, a month ago now, wasn't it?—I knew at once it was you. I knew my daughter had finally awakened her magic. And with the Howler's Moon, I knew it was time—all the right events aligned for our happiness, Wren! The fates—the old Religion—everything wants us to all be together again. Even the stars shall bow before us tonight."

"Nothing will bow before us," I spit, "I want none of this. I don't want anything to do with you."

"You'll change your mind when you see your father," Fervania said. "He's powerful, and wonderful…"

"Is he?" I asked spitefully. "Then where is he? Why hasn't the spell worked?"

"Give it time," Fervania said distractedly.

"I am not familiar with magic," I said angrily, "But I don't think your precious miracle spell from Nimueh has worked. You've failed, and I am _glad _you failed."

"You can't mean that," she replied, shocked.

"I do," I said, struggling to stand up without the use of my hands. "I don't think Nimueh was as great as you thought she was. And we? We will not be sensational. No one is going to take over Camelot, least of all you and your—your _pathetic _magic."

Fervania turned pale, and began to rake her fingers through the top of the grave, pulling up bits of moss and earth. "Come on, come on," she began to cry hysterically. "Edmond, come on. Come back. Show Wren. Your daughter awaits you. I'm here. Edmond… Edmond…" she was growing more and more distraught. "Why isn't anything happening?" she began to scream. "EDMOND!"

"How did that spell go?" I asked, "What did you say right after The Power of One?"

"_Within minutes of his last, and the spell said soon," _she recited, "_Do unto thus beneath a full Howler's Moon. _Look up, Wren! A Howler's Moon! The timing is correct."

"Within minutes of his _last!_?" I exclaimed, walking boldly towards her. "Minutes of his last _breath, _Fervania! It isn't just a spell, it's a riddle, and one that I think you've missed entirely."

Her breathing was growing shallow.

"When did he die?" I demanded. "WHEN. DID. HE. DIE?"

Fervania began to sob uncontrollably. "The—the—night we fled Camelot! He was—was—shot from the guard's tower, by an arrow. It pierced him in the back, right through his heart. I—I managed to get him onto the horse—and brought him here—I buried him. That night, while I grieved here… I was visited by Nimueh. She gave me the spell."

"You should have done it twenty years ago if you wanted success," I said firmly. "This spell is dead. And Edmond will stay dead, too."

"No, no no, no!" Fervania shouted, jumping to her feet. "It has to work! EDMOND! COME BACK!"

"Stop screaming, you'll attract wild animals," I said callously, the adrenaline rush beginning to kick in. If I was to escape, I had to act quickly. I could steal the horse. But first, I'd need to get a hold of the dagger and cut the rope around my wrists…

"Without Edmond," screamed Fervania, "We cannot hope to take Camelot for our own. It's time for magic to return to the land, Wren—defeating Camelot is only the first step of bringing back the Old Religion. It's the key to our whole life. Our, our _happiness, our future, _rests upon tonight. You must be wrong. Edmond should come back from death."

"He won't, you read the spell wrong," I cried, "And I would rather be dead and buried beside him then help you win Camelot or spend any of my future with you."

"Then I am truly alone," Fervania said viciously. "You will abandon me? Your own mother?"

"Abandonment is the only thing you've ever taught me," I said. I jumped forward, and jerked the dagger out of the ground. My bloodied hand hurt to put pressure against the cold metal of its' pommel, but I clung to it nevertheless.

I held it out in front of me, clumsy but defensively.

"Wren," Fervania said, her thick voice betraying her utter despair. Her eyes were deep red with tears. "Give—me—the—knife."

"No," I said, backing to the tree-arch through which we entered. "I want you to stay where you are. If you come any closer, I will use this."

Fervania, even through her sobs, gave me an amused glance. "You can barely hold it!" She lunged at me, and I tried to use the knife to my advantage. But I was no good, and even Gwaine's kindly little lessons on the training green seemed like a life that I had only dreamed about. A dream where I could not remember any details that could aid me now.

Fervania clutched my hands, jerked them from side to side, knocking the knife out of my hands and to the ground. She took it up before I could even blink, shoved me against a tree, her hand at my throat.

Her pressure against my windpipe caused my mind to blink out, like a candle being blown at by an ill breeze. I struggled against her, but my pushes were weak. My arms had strength enough for rolling cauldrons, but with my breath shortened, I had nothing…

"Did you think you were going to get away so easily?" Fervania smiled at my feeble attempts to push her off. "Ungrateful child. If I cannot have your love, Camelot shall not have yours. I will _not _have my families' loyalty divided. None shall have you."

I was choking, my eyes wide, trying to get her to move.

"Yes," she laughed wildly, "I will take Camelot myself if you will not help me. But not before I bury you beside your father." She held the knife to my collarbone, the blade dangerously close to my throat. I was beginning to feel faint—I just needed to breathe—

Suddenly, Fervania's eyes went wide. She let out a hard gasp, and dropped the knife.

She stumbled backwards, releasing her hold on my throat. My eyes watered as I bent over at the waist, coughing horribly, taking in deep draughts of blessed air. I looked up, in shock, as Fervania stepped away, looking down at her own abdomen.

It was turning dark with blood. Her knees buckled, and she fell hard to the ground, pitched forward, and remained still. A small, bejeweled dagger was sticking out of her lower back. She shuddered suddenly, and let out a long breath. She did not rise again.

"Oh, oh my god," I gasped. "Fervan—oh god…"

Behind her, another woman was smiling. A woman that I recognized, from the palace, long ago, but she was older, and darker, dressed in black…

"M-Morgana?" I said hoarsely.

She stood beside the still form of Fervania, looking down at her with an annoyed disgust. She poked her with the toe of her boot, and with a tired sigh, plucked her knife out and wiped the blade on the grass. She looked at me, expressionless.

"Are—are—you going to kill me, too?" I managed.

Morgana smiled kindly, a genuine smile, underneath thick make up from charcoal dust and the dye of green forest leaves. Her hair, piled atop her head, gave her a regal—if terrifying—appearance. She approached me carefully, placed the knife between my hands, and cut the rope off and let it fall to the ground. "There we are," she said, the lilt of her voice gentle and sincere. "That must be more comfortable."

"Why did you… kill her?" I asked, coughing again.

Morgana gave me a sympathetic look. "Oh—your mother was wrong on several accounts. It is not time for magic to return to the land—not yet. I will decide when that is."

I held my bloodied, bruised hands to my neck, tucking my chin over them, trying to make myself smaller if such a thing were possible. "Why did you save me from her?" I asked.

"I have no quarrel with you," Morgana said easily, brushing a bit of dirt from my forehead. "I have merely eliminated my competition. Fervania was a pathetic excuse for a witch and she had little power. Camelot is not hers to be taken—not hers by right. She had ridiculous plans to take over, did she not? But it is not her responsibility—it is mine, and mine alone. When it is time for Camelot to fall, _I _shall decide its' fall. When the walls come crumbling down, I will stand over them—no one else will have the honor. It is my destiny, and no love-sick little witch will have my revenge." She smiled at me again. "Does that make sense to you, little one?"

"Yes," I whispered, voicelessly. "I… will… remember… that you had mercy upon me… I will not forget it."

"Aw," Morgana said with a look that one gives a small child or a baby animal. "That is sweet of you. I will—require—you to grant me a favor for my services, will you do that?"

"What is it?" I hesitated.

"Just deliver a message to the King for me," she said, her smile losing the innocent expression. Her smirk seemed more dangerous that Fervania's smiles. "Just tell Uther that I am alive and I am watching him. That I am waiting for the right moment, and I am _the sole harbringer of Camelot's destruction._ I hope he remembers his daughter—the one he should have loved, the rightful heir. Tell him—that when I come for my throne, he will see me sit upon it before I slit his throat."

I nodded fervently, sickened with the realization that she wasn't going to kill me too. It was both horrifying and incredible that I would be so lucky to be saved by someone far worse than Fervania, the woman responsible for the event that killed my aunt and uncle.

"I will—I will tell him," I said.

"Good girl," Morgana gripped my shoulder, and nudged me in the direction of the arched trees. "The horse lies just beyond there. I suggest you get on it and give Uther my message as quickly as you can. And don't bother trying to tell the little knights where this took place. As soon as you leave these woods, I will destroy this place. Understood?"

"Y-yes," I said, walking shakily away. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins and my head pounded. It all felt too sharp to be a nightmare—and yet, what else could it be?

I stepped around Fervania's body, and couldn't even look at her closely. She had come so briefly into my life, only to leave it again quickly. I didn't want anything to do with her evil. It was gone now, and I had only to forget it. I would go back to my life, only with the closure of knowing what happened to my parents. And yet, I wished I did not know. I would rather wonder, than be trying to escape from the lurking forest where their bodies lay. If only I hadn't agreed to meet her. Was I so stupid? Or just horribly naïve?

I looked over my shoulder, and Morgana stood over my father's grave.

"Go on," she said, in a strong voice. "Everyone loses their parents' eventually. Be glad that such witches of lesser magic are no longer among us. I will remember you when I return to my throne. I will show you that magic can be used for great power and for a good life. You'll see."

"Was it you?" I asked carefully, pausing at the arch. "That killed the cart maker?"

"A mere tease for Uther," she said carelessly, kicking a patch of dirt. "When others began to die, I knew I wasn't alone. Fervania was terribly clumsy with her magic, and it was only a matter of time before I found her."

"You found us tonight," I added. "How?"

"It's not hard to find an elementary witch screaming under a Howler's Moon," Morgana said. "And you're not the only one who dreamed of tonight before it would happen."

I nodded shortly, then turned and ran between the trees. I nearly tripped over a large root, and wished it was Gwaine like the last time. For a moment, I panicked, in the darkness, with only a white moon guiding my steps. But the horse was very close, and whinnied when he heard my feet trample the undergrowth.

I had no one to help me into the saddle. Trying to remember Merlin's instructions, I patted its' dark brown neck, talking in soothing nonsense. I gripped the saddle horn with one hand, place my foot in the stirrup, and launched myself upwards. I made it halfway up, clung desperately for a moment, and then threw my other leg over.

I was in the saddle, panting with the effort. I needed water, my throat hurt so badly from Fervania trying to choke me. But we had been traveling all day, surely Fervania needed… there was a small canteen tied to the saddlebags. I grabbed at it clumsily, pulling the cork out, and drank greedily. Eventually I came to my senses and realized I had, at least, a six-hour journey ahead and must save some.

"Go on," I said to the horse, wincing. "Uh—go! Heeya. Hup hup." I whistled, and the horse stood placidly. "Ugh," I said, slumping back in the saddle, and giving him a light kick with my heels. The horse jerked his head up, ears alert, and began a jolting trot forward.

"Oh, goodness," I exclaimed, holding on tightly. The horse broke into a smoother gait, and I had to cling on for dear life when branches came close to swiping me clean off his saddle.

Within minutes, we were out of the woods. I directed the horse towards the field we passed through, approximately to the point where I woke up. Finding my way home was not going to be easy—I had never traveled before.

"Calm down, Wren," I told myself. "Think. _Think._"

I looked around. The moonlight lit a regular field. From behind me in the woods came a strange cracking sound—Morgana was destroying the clearing with some sort of magic, I was sure of it. Ahead of me lay a cluster of tall oak trees, and beyond that, another field with shorter, greener grass. The mountain range lay behind me, I seemed to be at their foothills.

Suddenly, I realized they were the White Mountains. I knew them—or, knew of them. They were visible beyond the Darkling woods, the forest that surrounded the citadel of Camelot. So if I headed away from them, I would find the woods. Hopefully, and then, a road, to bring me home.

…

Three hours past, and the moonlight waned. Perhaps it would have been better to stop and try to sleep, and to continue on in the daylight.

But I was cowardly. I did not want to get off the horse. I was afraid to descend from the saddle and try and sleep against a tree, wondering what kind of animals or people lurked the uncivilized lands of Camelot at night. I periodically thought of Fervania's face and gasped, as if suffering from a waking nightmare.

I couldn't stop shivering in the nightly chill. Everything ached—my wrists, my back, my throat, my hands that had finally clotted and scabbed over.

It had to be close to midnight, and I had not come across a single, solitary farm or cottage in which to take refuge. Dark woods closed around me again. Logic kept telling me to stop and sleep. But I never stopped, I just wanted to go home.

And besides, I had an urgent message to deliver.

…

I knew it was past midnight, but not much else. Exhaustion slipped and took a hold of me. I felt numbed by my experience. I had seen people die before… in dragon attacks, Morgana's attempted take over… people die. It happens.

But this was my mother, found and lost, in only two days. And she turned out to be so—startlingly—unfeeling, disturbed, and insane. And my father had been dead since the moment they abandoned me.

And I had magic. She said it had awakened inside of me. Was I stuck with it forever? Couldn't I choose to not have it, like one might choose to cut their hair or wear a ring?

For the first time since I could remember, I began to cry. Grief seemed to topple from nowhere and wrap its' hands around my heart. I felt trapped between the need to concentrate on where I was traveling and the overwhelming sobs that poured out of me.

I buried my face in the mane of the horse, let him have his head, and let myself relax in my own tears. I couldn't remember a time when I really cried. I was upset when the Lady Deanna let me go, I couldn't breathe when I found Gwaine in the woods. I felt tearful when I went a week without sleep—yet this was nothing like it.

It lasted for, perhaps, an hour. Or maybe it was five minutes.

I knew nothing for a time. And when I checked, I was out of water.

…

The moon had gone down. I knew it must be somewhere close to three past midnight. I was in woods again, and I prayed it was the Darkling Woods that surrounded Camelot. I listened for the sounds of a river, the river that ran close to Camelot, or anything that resembled farms.

Then I heard something, and pulled my horse to a halt. Stomach clenched in fear, I listened like a hawk for the sound. I could not tell what it was, but it sounded human.

Then, it was there again. A voice, mumbling and carried by a breeze. It was far away. Instantly, I feared bandits or slave traders. Did the prince not say it was a bad season for them? That it wasn't safe?

Hesitantly, I urged the horse forward again. Whatever, or whomever it was, I'd have to find out, in case it was someone that could help me find my way. I had kept my back to the mountains, but surely it wasn't enough.

The voices were clearer. They were coming from, perhaps, fifty feet ahead. Somewhere in the darkness—pitch black without the moon.

Then I spotted firelight, and the thankful glow around it. A bandits camp, perhaps? Friendly travelers? Gypsies?

I slipped off the horse, and found my hands trembling. I tried to hold fast to the reins and walk slowly towards the light.

"We're missing courage," said one of the voices.

"Huh?" said the other indignantly. "What do you mean? I'm brave!"

"Don't you remember?" said the first. "When we trailed Arthur through the Perilous lands?"

They had to be from Camelot—whoever it was—

"That creepy little person called me Strength, you Magic, and Arthur, Courage. So we're missing courage on this trip. What do you think he meant by those, anyway?"

"Nicknames from a lonely hermit," the first offered uncomfortably, in the inflection of his voice, I recognized it. It was Merlin.

"This is the second time we've taken a little trip when we weren't supposed to. Bit of a tradition now, isn't it?" laughed the other, and I knew the laugh. I broke into a smile.

I opened my mouth to call out to them. I tried to yell Gwaine's name, but nothing came out. My voice was gone, and the only thing to happen was a hoarse sort of breathing.

But they heard us walking through the fallen leaves.

Their shadows stood up in the firelight, intimidating and poised for action.

Gwaine drew his sword. "Show yourself," Gwaine said loudly.

"Who's there?" Merlin added for good measure.

I was close enough now, stepping around the trees. I was visible from the glow of the flames, and I knew I must have looked a sight. I was covered in dirt and bruises. My dress and hands were brown and red with dry blood.

I had nothing that I could say, so I gave them a childish smile.

"Wren!" Merlin exclaimed, grinning hugely. Gwaine tossed his sword aside and rushed at me, startling the horse. The horse jerked his reigns out of my hand and trotted away, not going far, but far enough to look over his shoulder and give us a scolding look.

Gwaine's hands were either side of my face, down my arms, pulling at my dress, not knowing where to look first. "Where—where—you," he was stumbling. "Are you hurt? What happened? Where've you been? What's this from? What'd you do?"

I stopped his questions with a bloody hand. I shook my head and forced out, "Can't, really, talk."

"Okay, okay, so you can't talk," Gwaine said, blinking. "All right. Good. Why can't you talk?"

I gave him a look.

"Right, sorry," Gwaine shook his head. "You—you _idiot. _You bloody idiot. Come here." He pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.

"I'll get the horse!" Merlin offered immediately, jogging away.

Gwaine nearly lifted me off the ground with one arm, the other hand finding its' way into my messy hair. I pulled my face away from his shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"You were looking for me?" I managed to ask.

He answered by tilting his head and pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, having never imagined something so lovely or strong in my entire life. Gwaine smiled into our kiss, pulled back, and grinned down at me as if he'd played some sort of trick. Not enough, I thought, standing on his boots, and kissing his chin. He bent down so that I could reach, and we kissed again. It was as if romance had left us, and it was pure expression of how much I had missed him, wanted him, desperately needed him in the hours I was alone, and my overwhelming relief at having found him.

"Ahem," Merlin said, finally, tying the horse's reigns to a branch, beside his and Gwaine's horses.

We broke apart. Gwaine was laughing, but I just felt thoughtless.

"Thank-you, Merlin," I whispered, though I was trying to shout. I felt hollow inside, wondering if I was going to wake up, lying beside a grave with not one, but two parents standing over me.

"She's awake," my mother would say.

"Hello, my princess," my father would say. "Thank-you for bringing me back to life. I have you to thank for that."

"We're going to be happy," mother would say.

But I wouldn't have been, not with my mother being the one who killed innocent people. This was happiness, being found by my two dearest friends, and being kissed by the one I'm falling for.

"Why are you crying?" Gwaine tried to brush the tears away.

I shook my head, wiping them away myself. I buried my face into Gwaine's chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He was very warm, and I was freezing. He wasn't in his armor, and I listened for his heart through his thin linen shirt. It was comforting.

"Come on," Gwaine neatly lifted me off the ground, slipped his other arm under my knees, and carried me towards the fire. He set me beside a fallen log, unrolled his sleeping blanket, and put it around me.

"Thank-you," I croaked out.

"Mhm," He replied, handing me an open leather canteen. I drank speedily.

"Slow down," he added.

"Nope," I replied. I was dehydrated and I could drink as much as I damn well pleased. But Gwaine reached over and took the canteen out of my hands not long after.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded. "Haven't eaten since this morning."

"It _is_ morning," Gwaine said gruffly. "Yesterday morning, perhaps? When you didn't show up for work?"

"Mhm," I agreed. He handed me a tin bowl, and in it, some kind of stewish mash. I accepted the wooden spoon and began to eat hungrily. I hadn't even noticed how empty or dizzy I had felt—part of being shocked by the whole thing, I suppose.

While I ate, Gwaine added two more logs to the fire. "When you did not show up for work," he said, "Ella returned to the tavern to find you. Evoric told her that you left with your mother. She assumed you just went on a walk with her, and lost track of time."

He stoked the fire with a longer stick. It was bright, yellow, and crackling as merrily as a fireplace in the castle.

"But when you never showed up—at all—Merlin noticed you were gone in the morning, and asked Terrin where you were. Then Ella expressed concerns. Then they came to me."

I blinked, wondering what Terrin had thought…

"They asked me if I had seen you. They said it wasn't like you to miss work, and Evoric had seen you leaving and wondered if she had come to see me. I told them you just met your mother for breakfast and should be back by now."

"Everyone returned back to work," Merlin interjected. "But at the end of the day and you still hadn't returned, we were starting to worry… it's a good thing Evoric had seen you leaving, otherwise, we wouldn't have known where to start looking."

"Terrin came to me, and was pretty upset," Gwaine said slowly. "He thought I had something to do with your disappearance. I reminded him that you were last seen with your mother, not me, and if you were going on a long trip, there is no way in hell you'd do it without asking for the time off. Because you're one of those responsible types… I don't even know how we get along," he added, jokingly, plopping down beside me with a huff.

"By the time dinner was over, night was falling, and we decided to come look for you," Merlin said. "Gwaine was confident that nothing had befallen you…"

"On the contrary," Gwaine said quickly. "I was certain that your creepy-arse mother had something to do with your disappearance. But I was hopeful that you were okay—just unable to get back when you wanted. But—but—look at you!" he added. "You're a sorry sight… and…" he broke off, frustrated.

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" Merlin said, coming up to the fire in his own blanket. He drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, prepared to listen.

I finished chewing the last bite, and swallowed. With a grin, Gwaine handed the canteen back to me. I drank two large gulps before answering.

"It's a… long story," I said, somewhat carefully. How much was I supposed to say about magic? "Can I…" I hesitated. "Can I trust you both?"

"What do you think?" Gwaine exclaimed.

"Of course!" assured Merlin.

In halting tones, I tried to explain what happened. From the moment I punched Fervania and tried to escape in the woods, only to fall asleep under an enchantment and wake up miles from home. I could not remember all of her wicked spell, but I tried to explain which parts of the rhyme correlated to the killings of the little boy and Teller's wife, and the return of the bodies to where they were. When I got to the part about the blood of the mother and the offspring, Gwaine muttered, "Oh, you beautiful, idiotic girl," and fetched a few bandage rolls from Merlin's pack. As I told the rest of the story, he wrapped my hands up in way too much strips of the fabric and tied them off clumsily.

I took a deep breath and tried not to leave out details about my dreams, and how Fervania believed that the three of us could take Camelot for our own.

"So you have magic," Merlin said, with a respectful tone.

"Don't say that," I said quickly. "Fervania said I did—but I—no. It's my own choice. Magic is evil, and I shan't have any part in it. I have bad dreams, is all."

"Bad dreams that turn out to be prophetic," Gwaine said. "Sounds like magic."

"Maybe it is, but I don't want to be magical," I said. "You understand, don't you? You won't turn me in?"

"No," Gwaine said resolutely. "Like you said, it's your choice. I've never been too keen on following the law, anyhow."

"Your secret is safe with us," said Merlin, and I was surprised to see that his eyes were filling up with tears. "Don't worry."

"So then what happened?" Gwaine urged. "I think it's safe to assume it didn't work."

"No," I said, explaining Fervania's grief. I took a deep breath. "When it was clear that I was choosing my old life in Camelot over her—she went truly mad. She tried to kill me—and—Morgana showed up."

I nearly laughed at the jaw-dropping expressions on Gwaine and Merlin's faces.

"Morgana—Lady Morgana?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin looked pained. "What was she doing there?"

"The way she put it?" I said. "Eliminating her competition. She—uh—killed Fervania, while she had me cornered. She cut the ropes off and told me I was free to go, and asked if I would bring Uther a threat from her. And then she watched me go."

They were silent, taking in the unexpected conclusion.

"Would… would you be able to tell us where this took place?" Gwaine asked, using a more professional tone.

"No, and Morgana destroyed the clearing," I said with a shrug. I accepted his canteen again and drank. "I couldn't find it again, the latter half of my journey was spent in complete and utter darkness when the moon went down."

"Why did Morgana spare you?" Merlin asked in a curious whisper. There was something about his face that seemed stricken.

"She said she had no quarrel with me," I said. "And she wanted her message delivered to Uther—that she was the daughter he should have loved, that sort of thing."

Merlin nodded slowly. "That… sounds more like the old her."

"The old her?" I asked.

"We used to be very good friends," Merlin said, grimacing, and trying to turn it into a smile. "Maybe… maybe there is still a heart in there. Somewhere."

"But your mother is dead," Gwaine clarified. "Morgana killed her because she was 'competition'? Sounds heartless to me."

"Heartless, perhaps, but she saved my life," I chided. "Fervania would have killed me. Morgana said she was a talentless witch, and would only get in her way. That she is the sole authority on magic and when Camelot will come to its' doom."

"I'm sorry about your mother," Gwaine seemed less interested in my story now. He set aside the canteen and sat closer, putting his hand over my bandaged ones.

I did not want him to be sorry about my mother. She wasn't my mother. Ella is the closest to a mother I'll ever have, and I would- had to be- content with that.

"Thank-you for looking for me," I said, taking his hand. I held out my other hand to Merlin, and he grinned, and took it. "You two are… the best. Truly. I don't deserve you."

Gwaine looked at Merlin sideways. "Well, maybe not him. He's far too noble and good. But I'm pretty terrible, so, anyone can deserve me, really."

I laughed, and it turned into a very wheezy cough. "I just don't know how to thank-you—either of you—enough for coming. I didn't know if I was going to find my way back. I am completely lost."

"What are friends for, after all?" Merlin stood up, and began to fix up his sleeping role. He glanced at me over the fire. "It is—really good, to see you, you know. You're alive and—despite your disappearance being for _much _worse reasons than we though—it's just relieving, is all."

"Ha!" Gwaine exclaimed, also standing up and moving a few saddlebag items around. "I know I was worried and everything—but if I had known what I should be worried about? I would have been tracking you before breakfast was over."

"I can't imagine," I yawned. "I can't—believe—I was gone all day. I can't believe it's tomorrow. It feels like a bad dream."

Gwaine lay out a sleeping roll. "Then it was a bad dream," he said stubbornly. "It's gone now and you're safe with us." He sat on the thin pallet and glanced at me. "We're going to have to share that blanket, you know."

I fought a smile. "Isn't that a little promiscuous?"

"I'm tired, you're tired, let's go to sleep," groaned Gwaine, yawning heavily.

I stood up and threw my blanket over him unceremoniously. He fought with it like it was an animal for a moment, having got a mouthful of the cashmere fuzz. He finally calmed down, spit, and opened up the side of the blanket for me to cuddle up beside him. He threw the blanket over me, and with it, his rather heavy arm.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

"Goodnight," Merlin hissed.

Gwaine kissed the back of my neck, and snuggled in behind me, his arm around my waist. "We should go camping more often," I mumbled sleepily.

"Don't be silly," he whispered back. "We should save this for special occasions. You know, other rescue missions. It's Merlin's turn to go missing. You've gone missing, I've gone missing… he should go missing too…"

"Hey!" came Merlin's voice. "Don't plot against me till morning, all right?"

I giggled and relaxed, and Gwaine was soon snoring lightly.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Fervania's body drop, falling onto her face, with Morgana's pretty, jeweled dagger sticking out. I must have fallen asleep, for I suddenly felt her hand on my throat, and her whisper of _We can be sensational, _echoing from my dreams, and finally, the fruition of them in my reality. I jerked lightly and woke up, breathing hard.

Gwaine woke up, briefly. "Hm?" he said.

I sighed and turned around, curling up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me again, kissing my forehead. Even as his breathing turned into his light snore, and I knew he couldn't hear me, I whispered, "It was just a dream."

…

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><p><strong>This is the end of Part One. Will most likely update Part Two at the end of this week or the beginning of the next. Please feel free to PM me anything you'd like to see and—of course—please review. Thank-you for giving my OC a chance. I really kind of like her, and I love you guys. So thank-you. Stick around for more. =)<strong>


	27. Part II: The Planted Poison

**Dear Readers,**

**Thank-you for your patience, I do hope the wait is worth it! **

**Love,**

**Pippin**

* * *

><p>…<p>

**Maliciousness & Misunderstanding Part II**

…

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><p><strong>The Planted Poison<strong>

I knelt on the cold floor of tile, head bent respectfully. I orated my report as well as I could, excluding some detail advised by my friends, and leaving the emphasis on the threat that lingered over Camelot.

My traumatic ordeal was but a few weeks ago, and I'd since healed physically, though emotionally I regret to say things were still fragile. I felt like my ability to love—or be loved—was in a dangerous place. Was it because I had feelings for a certain someone that I sought his presence whenever I could? Or was it because I was frightened and just wanted a pair of arms to step into? There are certain things in life considerably unfair, and that would be one of them. Especially to him.

So upon my return, I was sequestered back into the services of the palace kitchens, where I was isolated in rest, work, and hardly seeing anyone at all. Least of all, the one I wanted to see. But I think it was better for me—or for him—for us?

"She allowed me to leave with my life so long as I promised to deliver this message," I concluded. "I fled as soon as I was able, and she destroyed the clearing with some sort of powerful spell."

My eyes flicked deftly to the left, where the knights were lined up, strictly at attention. Gwaine let his chin lower slightly, an encouraging nod to say _well done. _

"Thank-you, Wren," said Prince Arthur formally. "For informing me of these matters. Sir Elyan—will you please deliver the news personally to the surviving families of the victims—that their killer, an insane sorceress—is dead? Take Gaius with you. They'll need his encouragement."

Sir Elyan bent his head, and together, he and Gaius slipped out the doors of the throne room.

"You are dismissed," Lord Agravaine stated, a strange little smile hovering at the corner of his stern, political mouth.

"I appreciate you explaining this before the whole court—it could not have been easy," Prince Arthur added, a post script to his uncle's curt dismissal. "Camelot owes you gratitude."

"Thank-you, my lord," I stood, curtseyed deeply, and walked stiffly out of the chamber. When I came out the door, I ducked beside an inlet where a shield and crossed swords hung on the wall. I put my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beat quickly. _Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. _

For the past twenty minutes, I had been describing my whole ordeal to the entire court. If speaking in front of so many wasn't stressful enough, remembering to lie about my magic the entire time was even more so. How to change such a story so that magic in my family had nothing to do with it! It took a severe editing.

Eventually, the story ran as thus; my psychotic mother kidnapped me, intending to show me my father's grave. At the gravesite, there was some sort of magic spell, one my mother was unaware of. To keep anything from happening—and to keep herself the only sorceress in the country—Morgana killed her and threatened me, but let me go to pass the threat along to the Regent.

My mother's magic—the curse—my unwanted ability to read the future—none of these things made an appearance in the story. For that is all it was. A story.

"You did well," came a soft voice.

"That is the optimistic view," I said, looking around the corner.

Merlin was leaning against the wall, his lanky arms crossed over his chest, a sneaky sort of grin on his face. "No, just the truth." He stretched and walked over, standing beside me. "But I wouldn't celebrate with a sigh of relief just yet. It's not really over…"

"Yes it is," I said, far too lightly. "I've made my report, it's done. They'll move on now—continuing their search for Morgana, as they always are. As if that's all they're meant to do. Camelot and Morgana, Morgana and Camelot. My ordeal was a mere distraction."

"I mean things aren't over for you," Merlin said. "With dreams that…"

"Shh," I hissed. "We are not going to discuss this here."

"When can we discuss it?"

"Never. I'd like to pretend it didn't happen."

"But what if it happens again?"

I glanced around, lowering my voice. "I believe that my mother was wrong. She said that she merely pointed out a—a power—that I've always had. I don't believe so. I haven't had dreams since her death. I think she was communicating with me in dreams—somehow—showing me visions she _wanted _me to have, in order to sway my confidence and believe I had powers. But she is dead now—so what reason have I to think they won't stop? If I will them to stop, can't they? Without her influence?"

"Maybe," Merlin said, looking disappointed. "We can hope."

"I do hope. I hope that since she's dead, I can continue my life in peace."

Silence fell. Arthur's voice rang out, strong and muffled, in the other room. We exited, but the meeting continued. They were increasing their number of patrols on other roads—particularly near the Perilous Lands. Rumor reached Camelot that a woman traveling by cart had been spotted a few days ride away.

"Did I ever tell you about my father?" Merlin asked suddenly.

"No?" I said. "Maybe? I do not recall."

"It's just—well, I only knew him for a day, before he was killed. As was your mother."

"Our commonalities increase," I sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to be friends!"

"It was very difficult to deal with. Especially when—Arthur didn't know. Still doesn't know. I mean, a single day isn't enough time to know them, and when it's over, mourning about it just seems weird. Since we didn't have them for long. But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

"For you?" I questioned. "I can hear it in your voice—you really learned to love your father in the brief time you had him?"

Merlin's eyes glimmered with a smile for a moment. "Yeah—I think so."

"Therein lies the difference," I said. "I didn't learn to love my mother in the short time she kidnapped me, tried to use me in a pagan ritual, and a few other offenses. I learned to hate her." I felt so calm about it, I didn't even realize I thought it. But I did. I guess I did hate her. It was a very neutral, internal hate. Nothing violent—nothing vengeful—only a quiet shimmer, like a heat wave across the flagstones.

"You truly hate her?" Merlin asked, sadly.

"Apparently," I said shortly. Whether he realized it or not, Merlin always caused me to be vulnerable and honest, in ways I never liked nor appreciated. And it is his own fault—telling me to remove the metaphorical armor from my heart.

Nowadays, the armor has a tendency to fall off without my noticing.

"That's sad," Merlin replied, equally clipped. "I just—I hoped…"

"Yes?" I prompted impatiently.

"I hoped you'd be better than that," Merlin declared, with feeling. "It's one thing to be hurt and forgive, another savor that feeling. Hate will make people do bizarre and terrible things. Just look at Morgana. She was so good, so compassionate. She had such deep qualms about people being treated unfairly by Uther. But she hated Uther—just Uther, mind you. But hate is like a poisonous ivy—it grows, and it climbs—it consumes everything, even the goodness, the healthy mind—until it wasn't just Uther anymore. It was the entirety of Camelot. You didn't know her when she lived here, as a ward. She was my friend. But hate poisoned her—very slowly, at first. Only a seed of fear here and there; fear of magic, fear of discovery, fear of never being accepted, fear that she learned to love her magic—and finally, she realized her powers made her too great to be afraid, and the only thing _left _to do was hate. Once it took root, the rest of the change came on rather quickly. Once she realized what she _could _do, and whom she hated—that _became _her. And before we knew it, the Morgana we knew and loved was gone—pfft—as a whiff of smoke."

I was impulsively taking Merlin's hand. "Merlin, I am _not _Morgana."

"I know that!"

"It's not the same," I tried to sound comforting. "I wouldn't expect you to feel all right with any of this—since you lost Morgana—but it's different with me. Really. I can hate my mother—don't look at me like that, I can—in the way someone can hate the rain when they wanted sunshine. I can hate without blaming."

Merlin was still unconvinced. He pulled his hand away. "You don't have to explain. I get it. You can keep telling yourself it's not the same, Wren, but it is. It's just a seed." He turned on heel and marched away.

"Merlin!" I exclaimed.

His leather boots hit the ground with abandon till he disappeared around the corner and down the stairs.

…

The nights that followed my mother's death were dreamless, but not altogether peaceful. The evening after my interesting discussion with Merlin, I went to sleep without worry for Her voice—only that my own thoughts would keep me from rest. Thoughts of regret for what I said, wondering if Merlin was going to see me like another Morgana waiting to happen. I didn't want anyone to treat me like a foreseen tragedy.

…

The midnight hour was cold in my bones, and the wind whistled, as if among treetops. It was not snug and warm, not in my bed. I was not in my bed, but I was too disoriented to figure out why. For a moment I thought I was in the clearing, watching Fervania sob convulsively over the grave. But it was not that kind of cold, not the cold of fear. This was the chill of a high place, a night stroll, a dark hour before dawn on a mountaintop.

I opened my eyes and looked down upon the pavement of Camelot, many stories below. My toes were hovering over the edge of the precipice.

I was standing on a wall, from one of the highest towers in the whole of the castle. The icy air was whipping at my nightgown, tugging at my equilibrium, pushing for one little change in weight or step to make me fall.

Fall I did—but not forward, off the edge, plummeting to death below. I fell backwards, off the ledge and onto the roof. The flat part of the roof where gargoyles perched on the corners, and in the midst of the décor and inclined tiles, a small door led to a winding staircase that would lead to proper rooms in the upper floor.

When I got over my shock, and became fully awake, I could only think of one thing. _Did I sleep walk? And what caused me to sleepwalk to the very edge of what could-have-been a fall to the death? How did I get up here? How did I awaken? _

Questions nearly broke my half-asleep mind as I sat, like another gargoyle among the collections, hugging my knees and wondering if I'd awaken again and find myself in bed.

But at the sun rose, nearly an hour later, I knew I'd have no such luck.

I had walked all the night to the highest turret in Camelot, but was unaware.

…

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><p><strong>Thank-you kindly for reading, my dears. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I look forward to returning to Camelot to see what it has in store for Wren, Gwaine, Merlin, and the rest of the gang. <strong>


	28. Part II: The New and the Old

**Dear Readers,**

**Thanks for your comments! Love to all!**

**Pippin**

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><p>…<p>

**Maliciousness and Misunderstanding Part II**

…

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><p><strong>The New and the Old<strong>

The kitchen was a hive of buzzing gossip and expectations when Mrs. Stewart announced that someone new and younger was taking her place as head cook. Ella couldn't help but grumble a little about that—if anyone younger was needed to replace Mrs. Stewart, it should be her, for she had the most experience and bordering on a young forty-five, and Mrs. Stewart finally admitted that someone under sixty should take command.

But naturally, kitchen life is never known for it's fair hierarchy, and Mrs. Stewart declared that "her personal ferst choice fer a good cuke well'beh takin' 'er plece."

If she was anything like Mrs. Stewart, we weren't looking forward to the change with much relish, but duty wouldn't be any more stressful than it already was.

Her name was Audrey, and though she was similar to Mrs. Stewart in appearance (though with far less wrinkles) she did not have the thick celtic accent to try and translate, having been born and rasied in Albion (though not from Camelot) her whole life. That was a relief, at first.

But we quickly discovered she possessed an even quicker temper.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN?" she screeched the moment she saw Merlin for the first time. Even Mrs. Stewart—who had been nodding in approval at all of Audrey's previous exclamations—didn't find this necessary.

Merlin, of course, was taken aback. He skidded on the floor to the stop in the doorway and paused, looking around. "To—to pick—the…"

"GO ON. SPIT IT OUT."

"He's the Prince's manservant," Ella said, rather coldly in my opinion. "He's supposed to be here at every meal. Come on, Merlin."

Merlin made a wide detour around the table to try and avoid Audrey's piercing stare and frown. When he followed Ella to where she placed the tray, Audrey held up a ladle threateningly. "I hope we won't have to see too much of you!" she said, resuming the stirring of a pot with relish. She continued to glare at him over the steam.

Merlin picked up Arthur's tray for breakfast. He looked at me with a look of wide-eyed fear, which quickly changed to a cheeky grin that he couldn't hold back. "New situation?" he asked teasingly.

"Full platter," I said through clenched teeth. "Over_flowing._"

"Yeah, I'm counting my blessings too," Merlin said, heading for the doorway. "One for today—I get to _leave _the kitchen."

I threw a grape at him, and Audrey suddenly screeched, "THEN LEAVE IT AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT!"

Audrey was considerably vocal and violent to anyone who entered uninvited.

Gwaine dared to show his face… once.

"What are you doing in MY kitchen?" Audrey was wielding a very large cleaver for the cutting of a very large swine killed for a feast. I've never seen him look quite so terrified before.

"I'm just here to see if Wren has a few moments…"

"You don't belong in MY kitchen!" she cried loudly, and chased him out, mostly by brandishing the cleaver in one hand and taking three determined steps towards him. With an apologetic look, he tucked tail and ran for it. _Knight of Camelot, the brave in battle and in drink. But not in a kitchen being threatened by an intimidating woman. _

After this, he had a tendency to peer through the vent from the storage room above, whisper _psst, _and when I looked up in confusion, he'd drop a flower down between the iron grating. Cute enough, but not brave enough. I decided to play a little joke on him. I placed a box of raw lambs meat under the grating, so when he leaned over to send some sort of romantic trinket, he got a heavy scent of raw meat instead. I didn't hear a 'psstt' this time, only a disgusting gasp and a fit of gagging.

"You know," Thea said one night as we blew out the candle and prepared for bed, "They say Audrey took over because Agravaine wasn't pleased with how the staff was being run."

"We were being run just fine," I protested.

"Aye—but they say Agravaine himself came down, and was inspecting the kitchen. He didn't seem too keen on Mrs. Stewart's friendliness."

"Friendliness? Mrs. Stewart? If he considers her too friendly, then we're all too familiar. But I suppose that's why Ella didn't get promoted. She's the friendliest of us all."

"But Audrey isn't just any cook. She was Agravaine's cook."

"So when Agravaine came here, he instilled his own cook in the palace?" I said doubtfully. "He's already got his fingers in the politics, the army, the lives of the commoners in the lower town."

"Power hungry?" suggested Thea.

"Why should he lust for power that will never be his?" I questioned. "It isn't as if he'd become King if Uther finally succumbs to his… illness, or whatever it is. Arthur will be King. He's just his uncle and advisor."

"I thought it was worth noting," Thea continued. "After all, you said he gave you a creeping feeling."

"That he does. I just hope he doesn't 'inspect' the kitchen often. I'd hate to be working down here alone and have him show up. The thought of it alone is enough to give me shivers."

…

That night, I did not walk to a parapet and fall to my death.

Though when I awoke the next morning, something felt off. I felt disheveled and tried to figure out what was going on. I found that my boots, sitting on the floor, were covered in mud and debri, as if I waded through the rain-fallen Darkling Woods in my sleep.

…

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><p><strong>Leave a review and let me know what you think! <strong>


	29. Part II: Preparation and Trepidation

**Dear Readers,**

**I find it dreadfully ironic that when I started this story I was still in school, and now I've finished school, and got a job… in a kitchen. **_**In a very large kitchen**_**. I've yet to find a Merlin in this kitchen, but unfortunately I think I've got an Agravaine. It provides a very interesting commentary on my writing now that I've got the experience of washing dishes for 125 people, whereas before, it was just my imagination. Just thought you'd find this interesting ;) In addition, I have the most epic crazy insane wonderfully delicious horrifying plot bunnies jumping around. The development will take awhile I'm sure, but I promise if you stick around through the parallel Wren story during series 4 and 5, you won't be disappointed. Or maybe you will. Who knows? **

**-Pippin**

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><p>…<p>

**Maliciousness and Misunderstanding Part II**

…

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><p><strong>Preparation and Trepidation<strong>

"I don't understand," I said in a low voice to Thea and Bit, as we rolled dough on the boards laid out for us. "Why does Arthur celebrate Samhain? It's a holiday of the… uh… _old religion._"

"For some, maybe," Bit said loftily. "For the Pendragons, it is a time to remember ancestors and the recently perished. A memorial feast, if you will. The original meaning of the holiday will have no effect upon it whatsoever."

"And we begin preparations for it a week or more in advance?" I asked dryly. "We don't even have a lot of guests. It's a small party."

"Just because the Prince's feast is small doesn't mean other courtiers won't be celebrating as well," Thea said. "Lady Deanna wasn't invited—for example—and so she is having her own feast. In her room. Many of the Ladies are attending."

"Won't personal servants take care of that?" I asked.

"Ah, yes, but who's going to cook all that food?" Thea responded.

"Oh, right, us," I said tiredly, yawning and pummeling the dough as hard as I was able. "All this fuss for the Samhain gives me an eerie feeling. I don't like it."

"Why? Do you have creepy ancestors?" Bit scoffed, and Thea elbowed her. Bit recovered quickly, and shot me an apologetic look. "Sorry," she muttered, "I forgot about the whole kidnapping-mother situation."

"Forget it," I said easily. The truth was, I was so busy, I didn't have the time to think about Fervania. I was glad not to, but I was also sort of surprised that I didn't. Was it callous of me to not think of my mother a few weeks after her death? Or was it a sign I was putting it all behind me? Or perhaps it was just habit to not think of her.

A pair of arms suddenly snaked around my waist from behind. I jumped, startled, and turned into the embrace of Gwaine. "Oh, hello," I said, suddenly shy. I had been working and didn't know how I looked, smelled, felt…

"I haven't see you for awhile," Gwaine remarked. Thea and Bit glanced at each other with wicked smiles, and resumed work.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?" I asked, glancing around. I felt slightly uncomfortable being so open with affections in a busy kitchen where Audrey or Terrin would walk by at any minute. For the most part, the other books and servants weren't giving a rat's tail about us.

"Always the same questions!" Gwaine exclaimed. "I'm here because even Audrey takes breaks. She isn't here."

I put my arms around his neck, absently tugging on a strand of his long—and getting longer—hair. "But she'll be back soon."

"If she doesn't have a butcher knife in her hand, I'm safe. For now."

"For now," I agreed. He leaned in slowly for a kiss when suddenly Bit cleared her throat loudly. We broke apart and tried to look apologetic. Kitchens are no place for public affections.

…

That night I dreamt of Terrin. It was very peculiar, many shades of darkness and light playing in disharmony against walls that were high and arched. The silhouette of a noose swung eerily against the wall, the rope creaking.

"I am despicable," I said to the corner of the room, shrouded in curtains. "I can never forgive myself for what I have done."

"I cannot forgive you, either," said Terrin's voice. "For your actions have a greater repercussion than you can possibly imagine."

"I don't understand the consequences, except that I have broken his heart. Poor thing."

"A broken heart that drives him to the ruin of all that we know," Terrin said, soothingly. And suddenly it was not his face, but Merlin, standing there. His hands were on fire.

"How could you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, suddenly confused by whatever sin I could not remember. "What have I done?"

"Don't you know?"

And suddenly Merlin melted in the flames like molten gold pulsing through a smith's bellows.

Gwaine stood in his place. "I cannot love a witch," Gwaine snarled, and the dream dissipated into the darkness of the night, and the bell was chiming midnight. I was standing in a hallway I did not recognize.

…

Somewhere in the palace, I was lost. There seemed to be stained glass windows, covered in dust. Old leaves shivered on the floor, coming through a chink in the wall. A black doorway was on my left. I went to the handle and pushed—the rust screeched against the stone, but it opened.

The light of the moon shone into the bedroom, the loftiest bedroom I'd ever seen. It was both hideous and perfect—the tall bed, curtains, stained glass, precious jewels and crystals adorning the table where a lady would sit and prepare for a dance. There was a mirror, too—a real mirror, not cloudy or made of copper. I passed my hand over the layer of grime and dust, and looked into the glass, shocked at how pure the image was. My haggard, shadowy-eyed figure stared back. I looked like a ghost that walked a spooky fireside tale.

Then I noticed the name, embroidered on a small pincushion. _Ygraine. _

I was in the late Queen's bedchamber, the one that she lived and died in. The room where Prince Arthur was born. Within these walls, Uther planned for the magical genocide that would tear my family apart and set my mother on a path to madness.

I fled from the room, back down the hallway. I found a stairway, that led down to a hall I recognized. I was near the King's chambers. I passed it, running, avoiding the lights of torches and checking corners. I was in the part of the palace where the courtiers lived now. There would be the Lady Deanna's room, and several other ladies. If I went down another flight from the bedchambers, and came up from the other side, I could go to the physician's.

I think it is time to confess my sleepwalking to Gaius. If he has something that can stop dreams, he may have something to cure sleepwalking.

…

"Wandering again so late?" a hushed voice said, sounding both like a flirtation and a threat at the same time.

I was walking briskly towards Gaius's rooms. I was very close—just around the corner—but Agravaine appeared from the shadows, arms crossed nonchalantly. He came out of an arch away ahead of me, cutting me off.

He wore rich, dark green velvet and his sword still hung on his belt. His black boots made little noise on the floors.

"My lord," I said respectfully, dipping in a curtsy. I did not offer a reply to his question.

"Tis a terrible hour for fresh air, if that is what you are seeking," Agravaine said politely. "Shouldn't you be resting? There are busy weeks ahead of us."

"Sleep avoids me at the moment," I tried to be casual. "Please excuse me."

He did not move aside. "Have you an appointment?"

I gulped involuntarily. It felt like something crawled over my arms. "Yes," I said, without thinking. "I am expected."

He pretended to nod understandingly. "We've had this conversation before, have we not? The young lady perhaps is in love and must meet in secret. I confess it makes me nostalgic for the years in which I was, too, young and daring."

I said stoutly, "You misunderstand me. I have no secret love affair."

"So say all the young!" Agravaine chuckled. "And yet here you are."

"I must ask you to excuse me."

"Should I choose for you to remain unexcused?" He asked, friendly.

"But I must keep my appointment," I said, feeling cold deep within me.

"Yeah, you are very late," said a pouty voice. Merlin emerged from behind Agravaine, beckoning with one hand and wearing a tight smile.

Agravaine turned with a very irritated sort of sniff, and I took the opportunity to scoot around him. At Merlin's side, we turned and bowed simultaneously.

"Goodnight then," Agravaine said shortly, walking away.

I reached over and clutched Merlin's arm. He pulled me into Gaius's chamber and we shut the door firmly behind us.

"What happened?" he exclaimed. I held a finger to my lips. Footsteps echoed lightly down the hall, the tread growing closer till it stopped outside the door. Something shuffled just by the doorknob, but it did not turn. Merlin and I waited in silence.

Then the footsteps walked heavily away, till they faded.

"What is _he _hoping to hear, I wonder?"

"Come on," Merlin motioned and I followed him to a smaller, second chamber, where a small bed, washstand, and trunk sat.

"Your room?"

"Yeah." He turned and gazed at me squarely, and the bells of Camelot chimed four hours after midnight. "What happened?"

"I slept-walked," I said. "I found myself in the past Queen's own chambers—I don't remember how I got there or anything."

"If this were anyone else, I'd say you were lying."

"But it's me."

"Exactly. And is this the first time?"

"No, uh… it isn't. Second, perhaps third, I don't know. I was on my way here to ask Gaius for help."

"And Agravaine interrupted?"

"Yes. He is a very intimidating man—I honestly didn't know why, I mean, it felt like more than just a delay because of a friendly conversation. I felt more like a hostage." I rubbed my arms. "It gives me a chill."

"Agravaine does a lot of wandering about at night, more than you and me put together, and that's saying something." Merlin frowned. "Gaius is out, the midwife in the lower town needs his assistance. Someone is having twins, I guess."

"Did Morgana sleep walk?" I blurted.

Merlin paused. "I don't know."

"What—what if…"

"What?"

"What if I'm like her? Isn't this how it all started? Dreams coming true and seeking Gaius out? I mean, I can only go from what rumor among the servants tell—and it isn't always trustworthy—but the various stories all say one thing. It didn't, at first, begin as a sorceress intent with destroying Camelot. It was an ordinary girl, and sorcery happened _to _her. It got into her mind, and made her feel that all of Camelot was the enemy—not just Uther's intentions against magic."

Merlin was holding my shoulders. "That's not going to _happen _to you. Who you become is your decision!"

"But what if I don't always know what I am deciding?"

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does to me. Have you ever had unexpected consequences of a decision?"

"Consequences, yes. But who I _am, _I choose to be it."

"You don't think circumstances can shape you without your permission?"

"No."

"But you haven't sleep-walked to the edge of the highest rooftop in Camelot, have you? It's no small wonder that you haven't found my body painted in small pieces on the courtyard below. Sleepwalking is making me frightened. I've always been a fearful person—that's who I am. But this is different. I'm not afraid of what I once was, making friends or angering my mistress. I'm afraid of something I can't see."

"Afraid of magic?"

"Afraid it has some sort of power over me."

"Nothing has power over you, least of all magic."

"How do you know? When have you become the professional?" I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, that was harsher than I meant."

"Magic didn't have power over Morgana, and neither will it you. Morgana did not choose understanding—or wisdom—she decided to choose a cause, and an enemy. There is not always a cause nor an enemy, and when there isn't, sometimes a person chooses to fight against the wrong side. This isn't you, nor should it even sound familiar to you. There is something happening to you, I won't lie. But you will never—ever—be like Morgana, until you decide that there is Someone to fight, even if it is the wrong one. Do you hear me? You are not Morgana. Don't be afraid."

He embraced me, and my veins seemed to pulse with an energy of fear, relief, and something I could not name.

…

Gaius returned within the hour. He gave me a potion for a deeper sleep, and Merlin walked me home. When we said goodnight, I thought I caught the shape of someone in the door to the main entry to the palace throne rooms and halls. Just a brief shadow, flitting by the open door, letting in the night air and creating a square of moonlight in the dark corridor beyond.

…

Samhain was drawing near. The palace seemed busier than ever. Anything that wouldn't keep for a few days had to be cooked and prepared the morning of, but everything else that could be bakes, dried, or stored was made in a frenzy. George spent nearly eight whole hours polishing every brass and silver dishware in the kitchen and conducted where they had to be placed at the great tables upstairs. Tyr cleaned the palace stables in a frenzy, and was quickly informed that no one would be venturing in there for the feast. His reply; "Maybe they'll want a ride after all that food, an' you'll all be glad of my cleaning then!" Terrin praised his attempts to please when there is almost no chance of it being seen and said we should all learn from his example. Audrey said we ought not to be influenced by stable boys. It is often all Ella can do to keep her temper when Audrey says such rude, unnecessary things, but she cannot do a thing while Mrs. Stewart simply nods and agrees. Terrin prefers to not get involved in their squabbles, and I cannot blame him.

Merlin snuck in one afternoon to say hello and sampled one of Audrey's dumplings. He said they reminded him of toad paste, and I shudder to think how he knew what toad paste tastes like.

Bit, Thea, and I barely had the time to ourselves or to even chat as we worked, and every night I took a sip of potion and slept as deeply as those who are dead. There was no more mud on my shoes to declare a sleeping romp through strange places.

…

_Samhain, Samhain, the veil O Night_

_Transparent spirits to shield your light_

_From the shadows call, Watchers in the dark_

_After death do they part, a journey embark_

_And fly once more in the western autumn_

_Though the cries of the living sought them_

_They ne'er returned to the world of life_

_To the window shrouded, the gleam of a knife,_

_They can only pause at the veil and mourn_

_And Beware shall they pass through a curtain torn!_

_..._

"What is this?" Thea asked, darting under my nose and whisking the parchment from my hand.

"No, please, don't," I gasped, standing and leaping for the paper.

"Oh, ho! Poetry, eh? You're a poet, Wren?" teased Thea, holding the paper out of my reach, running about the room like a mad person and jumping onto the bed. "What's it about, then?"

"Give it back!"

"Samhain, Samhain, the veil O night…" Thea began to read out loud. Her eyes narrowed, and she stopped reading, though her lips continued to move and her eyes roved the page. She stepped down from the bed and sat on the edge of it.

"It's just—about the holiday," I said lamely.

Thea looked up. "Where did you come up with this?"

"It just came to me."

"It's very… dark, Wren."

"How so?"

"It sounds…" Thea leaned forward and whispered. "Sort of like a song. Like a hymn from the old religion."

I snatched the paper rudely from her hands and crumpled it up, holding it tightly in my fist. "It is just _poetry. _I was inspired by the preparations. And I still feel strangely that the Pendragons use a magical event to remind them of their ancestors."

"But about the curtain, beware of it being torn, or whatever," Thea pursued. "It sounds like a warning."

"Does it?" I asked. "I just—I just don't like the whole feast idea, is all. If magic wasn't scary enough, the feast feels like an invitation for it."

Silence fell, and Thea shivered. "I sort of feel that way too. Why celebrate by the means of the very thing we're taught to fear and loathe?"

"Exactly!" I tucked my wadded up paper in my pocket. "That's what my poem is about. I feel that if the Pendragons play with a flint, it will mean fire."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

"I guess that makes me the poet."

It may have been based on a dream, but it was one I could not remember.

…

Merlin invaded the kitchen the morning of Samhain to fetch Prince Arthur's laundry. He managed to escape before Audrey could do any damage, but I found one of the chickens we had _just _cooked missing. I didn't know whether to blame Merlin, the pantry cat who took care of the mice, or if it were some other guilty party.

…

I tried not walk the upper halls, even less so than usual with the purpose of avoiding Agravaine. But in the afternoon, I found myself passing through the happily lit upper hallway, where sunlight poured through outer windows and everyone bustled with excitement and duties.

I passed by the doors to the secondary throne room, where the King or the Regent would sit and listen to the news of the realm or give orders, unlike the main throne room, where the room was larger for a grand audience and use usually for finer events—such as a crowning, a wedding, or public hearings.

Just when I went by, the door opened a crack, and Gwaine slipped out.

"Gwaine!" I exclaimed, unable to control a sudden smile.

Gwaine turned towards me from the doors, and I was shocked to see his face. It wasn't merry, as it usually was. There was something deep in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Gwaine shook his head, turned, and stomped down the corridor.

"Wait!" I called after him, trotting to catch up. We turned a corner into an empty space, and Gwaine seemed to give up on his retreat and leaned against the wall with a slump. I hesitated at his side. "What—what is it?" I asked again.

"Bertram and Montague are dead," Gwaine said shortly. "No one knows them personally, and they've got little family to mourn for them. But they were my mates. And they're gone."

I didn't know what to say.

"As far as magic is concerned, the victims just become numbers all too quickly. Morgana killed them and we add them to a roster. When does it end?"

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"You were right, you know. About the cart. I heard Arthur say to Leon, personally, 'let's put that Wren's theory to the test'. We'd had reports of a woman and a cart, you see, traveling. They caught up to her on the plains of—of—I've forgotten the name now. Just damn plains, near the Isle of the Blessed. It was Morgana. She killed Bertram and Montague but didn't quite knock off Leon and Elyan. Naturally she escaped. _Escaped._" His tone grew sarcastic. "So now we're going to have a party." His chin fell to his chest, and his long hair hid his face. He drew a shaky breath.

"Gwaine," I said softly, brushing my hand through his hair. "Tell me… what can I do?"

He sniffed and laced his fingers behind his head, as if thinking too deeply about my question. Though he was taller than me, his slouching against the wall gave me the height to put my arms around him. He let his arms fall, and I held him while he shuddered. He wasn't exactly crying, because he probably didn't want to.

"Montague liked to play lookout when Percival and I stole from the kitchen," Gwaine said. "We especially missed him today." _And there is the missing chicken answer… _"And," Gwaine continued, "Bertram liked to lecture us on the worthiness of Camelot and not to be too lighthearted in our jest. Everything was about honor to him. If we did not act honorably, we were not worthy to be knights. He always seemed to find me when I had been drinking. But he never doubted me—ever. Even when I was drunk out of my mind."

He sat against the wall again, and I let my arms drop. "So tonight I'll probably get drunk and regret my dishonor tomorrow," he said, staring at me to gauge my reaction.

I frowned. "Hmm."

"Can I sneak you into the feast?"

"That would not be possible. I'll be missed downstairs."

Gwaine pulled me into his arms and sighed again. "You feel good. Can we do this again?"

"Do what? Stand awkwardly in the corridor?"

"Holding you."

"Skip the feast," I urged. "You can hold me all you want. Forget about getting drunk at a feast you don't even like. Take the time to…you know, process. If you want to talk about your friends—I'll be there. We'll have some time during the meal when we shall have nothing to do except talk and be together."

"The feast is mandatory, I fear."

"The alcohol isn't."

"No, it isn't," Gwaine repeated slowly. "But I don't think there's any willpower in me tonight."

He looked defeated. It made my heart ache for him, and for the friends that I did not know, nor had been even acquainted with. I felt that I was doing Gwaine a disservice by not knowing them. _But we were from different classes, different worlds, really. And the palace is occupied by hundreds..._ And just like that, the magical victims became numbers—just like Gwaine hated.

"Be careful, then," I said simply. "I'll see you after." I brushed a finger lightly across his cheek, where a small trace of a tear remained. "I know it hurts," I whispered, "But I will try and lessen your grief as much as I can. Don't… don't give up." I didn't know why I added the last part, but Gwaine seemed to understand.

…

After delivering the last of the evenings selection of wine to the upstairs dining hall, many of us dropped where we were at in the kitchen and laughed with relief. Thea and Bit and I sat against the wall, our feet stretched in front of us. Audrey told us to get our lazy selves off the floor, and then stalked back to her pantry and shut the door. Ella rolled her eyes and told us to ignore her, Mrs. Stewart had since retired early and 'left the young ones to handle the feast'. The personal servants were serving drinks and food upstairs, leaving us cooks and washers to relax for a few hours before clean up begins.

Terrin opened the back door to let a fresh breeze into the hot and stuffy kitchen. We were passing around a bowl of cider when something in the air changed. If ice had been poured down my back I would have felt no different. The breeze changed to a cold wind, coming not from the door, but from another place—from outside, but only just outside the skin of our souls. And I was leaping to my feet, my ears straining, because I could have sworn I heard someone scream, and yet no one else looked for a source.

"What is it?" Terrin asked, and I saw his mouth move and knew his words, but heard nothing. The scream was still lingering on the air, merely an echo. I felt so cold I wondered if my heart had stopped.

"Do you feel that?" I asked.

"Feel what?" Bit asked.

I looked down at my arms, expecting to see them turn pale and green from being frozen. It was so cold, cold as a mountain. Perhaps this is what it was like to be dead.

"Wren!" exclaimed Thea. "Are you well?"

My teeth started to chatter. "It's s-s-s-so c-c-cold…d-d-don't-t y-y-ou feel tha-t-t-t?"

"Let's get you a coat," Terrin said in a stern voice. He walked over to me, grasped my elbow, and led me out of the room. Thea got up to follow, but Terrin shook his head.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as we were in the wine cellar, out of sight and earshot.

"It's-s-s c-c-cold," I mumbled, everything inside of me asking politely to be shut down and relaxed so that I could curl up and sleep off the chill. "C-c-cold!"

"I don't feel cold. It's terribly hot in the kitchen. What else is wrong?"

"I heard s-s-someone s-s-s-s-c-c-reaming…"

"Where?"

"I… I… don't know." Terrin still held my arm. I trembled with shivers, but I removed my arm quickly from his grasp. "I-I-I need-d-d-d to t-t-talk with someone."

"Who?"

I shook my head. Terrin let his hand fall, and his face was perplexed. "You won't tell me what this is all about?" he repeated his question more fully, his disappointment clear.

"I can't, I-I-I n-n-n-eed to go," I didn't know why I needed to go, but I knew this—what I felt, the temperature drop, the scream—it carried a heavy scent of magic. It was like a forest clearing with a grave, a nightmare with Her voice, or the presence of the dead.

…

I began walking. I was looking for someone—anyone. Gaius, Merlin, Gwaine, Lancelot, even Sir Leon would've been a relief. I had to ask—what happened? What was that? What sort of evil, dark thing just crept by and froze my very bones?

At times, I nearly fell on the ground, but the farther I went up the castle the easier it became. My teeth stopped chattering and I became warmer. And I finally spotted a familiar face.

"Sir Lancelot!" I greeted hurriedly.

Sir Lancelot turned towards me with a look of _knowing _on his face. "What is it?" I said right away. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, "I mean, I know _what _happened, but not why. Merlin collapsed, I'm just coming back from Gaius's chambers now."

"Wait—what? Is he all right?" I didn't expect that sort of news. If he did not feel the cold—but if Merlin collapsed—what did that mean? Too much wine for Merlin? Or perhaps too much cold?

"He just regained consciousness."

"I—I should go see him."

"Wren," said Lancelot kindly. "Merlin is in good hands."

"I know…"

"There may be someone else who needs your help right now," Lancelot continued, in a careful tone.

"Gwaine?" I suggested.

"He's got himself into a bad place. He's had a lot to drink."

"He knows what he's doing," I said stiffly. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean it _that _way. I know you lost friends today—Sir Bertram, and Sir Montague? I would like to say I am sorry… so very sorry for your loss."

Lancelot looked very touched. "Thank-you…"

"Gwaine prefers drowning sorrow in drink," I said, "And I do not care for it, but it is his choice. I will see him when the feast is over, and help him back to his room if I need to. But I'd like to see Merlin first."

Lancelot nodded. "Tell you what. I'll send Percival for you, and I'm sure between the two of you, you can make Gwaine choose bed over the bottle."

I gave him a thoughtful look. "I suppose the knights often try to help him in this way."

"As often as we can. We do not mind a drinker, but Prince Arthur cannot employ a drunk."

"This must have been harsh news for Gwaine to take."

"Bertram was… helping him. I think without his mentorship, Gwaine feels lost. And I don't know much about his heart being mended, except that you—when it concerns Gwaine—you're probably the best thing for helping him through."

"We all care for him," I sighed, feeling a chill raise the invisible hair on my arms. Before the cold deepened, I bid Lancelot farewell for now, and sped off to see Merlin as quickly as possible.

But thoughts of Gwaine still troubled me. He always drank to the excess, (though not daily, thank goodness) and for whatever reason, Sir Bertram felt the need to step in. It must have been more serious than it appeared to me, and yet, I felt in some way I should have known. I just hoped tonight would perhaps be the end of the feasts and parties, and perhaps a cause and a mission would distract him.

…

"Hi," I said quietly, seated on the edge of Merlin's bed. He was wrapped in four blankets or so, and glistening with some sort of herbal remedy that Gaius had dabbed on his neck and hands. He was shaking even under all those blankets.

"Hi," he whispered back.

"How are you feeling?" I asked clumsily.

"Cold," he trembled, his eyes drifting shut.

"There was a horrible chill," I said, "And screams. Then I heard you collapsed. I couldn't help but feel the latter was caused by the other."

"I heard the same."

"Why did we hear it and not everyone else?"

Merlin seemed to shudder harder than before. I pulled another blanket from the foot of his bed and put it over him, tucking in the corners. I brushed some hair back from his forehead. "Shhh," I said, "Don't worry about my questions, my impatience cannot cost you a quick recovery."

"I just… I think I ought to tell you something. Something important," Merlin whispered, trying to sit up. I pulled his hand so that he could sit against the headboard. He looked like a little blanket lump, and I tried not to smile at how comical it was.

"Yes?" I prompted.

"I want to tell you…" Merlin paused, biting his lip.

I waited, and when he did not continue, I patted his arm to remind him I was there. "It's all right, Merlin," I said slowly. "It can wait."

Merlin shook his head. He was debating internally about something. I felt at this point I should have just guessed what he wanted to say, but I was at a loss. I wasn't putting two and two together, and felt all the sillier for knowing I should, but couldn't.

"Something is happening in Camelot, and I fear for all our safety," Merlin said, finally. "I had a talk with Gaius… something happened during the feast, all the room went cold, and I heard screams."

"The same happened in the kitchen."

"We suspect the veil between worlds has been torn."

"A veil," I repeated, thinking about the seemingly innocent, if pessimistic, poem I had written that very day. I took a deep breath. "And who waits at the veil, to enter if it is torn?"

"The spirits of the dead."

I took my poem out of my pocket, and red-faced, handed it to Merlin.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

He did, blue eyes scanning widely. "You wrote this—how did you know?"

"I just wrote it this morning. Just… to vent frustration."

Merlin handed it back. "You didn't show this to anyone?"

"My roommate read it. That's it."

Merlin knew Thea, and he knew she always had my best interest at heart. That didn't concern him. "I think we've really seen an… increase… in your, um…"

"Powers?" I hated to say the word.

"Maybe… or just your ability to sense the future."

"Do you think my poem is coming true?"

"I'm afraid it might. And we must all beware."

…

* * *

><p><strong>author's note: HAS ANYONE SEEN THE Merlin series 5 FINALE YET? It will affect the ending of this story greatly. I have a few paths I can take, and they all end sadly, with a little dose of hope at the end. The question is, which route do I take? <strong>


	30. Part II: A Day and Night Sadly Spent

**Dear Readers,**

**Thank-you for all your loverly reviews. Sorry it has been a while in updating, I've been writing a lot for this story… but out of order, so I realized that I should probably write what needs to happen **_**now, **_**and not in the future, otherwise I would never post! Haha! So thanks for your patience. **

**Pippin**

* * *

><p>…<p>

**Maliciousness and Misunderstanding part II**

…

* * *

><p><strong>A Day and Night Sadly Spent<strong>

I searched the remains of the feast for Gwaine. People still sat around the tables and spoke in low, murmuring voices, in a sort of sleepy drunkenness that comes when the firelight begins to die down. He wasn't there, and no one noticed a kitchen maid in the wrong quarters of the palace.

As I walked through the nicer quarters, I peered through a near window left half-open, and saw a familiar shape below. Gwaine, in all his ridiculousness, had opened the window, stepped down onto a bit of sloping roof, and was sitting on the edge and looking down into the courtyard. Luckily it was a section of eaves that came about twelve feet above the ground—so if he were to fall—

"Gwaine?" I said, pushing the rotating stained glass. I pulled myself up over the sill and slid my legs onto the other side.

"Wren!" he greeted. "You've finally consented to visiting me!"

I slipped on the roof and clutched the window, lowering myself down with care. "Um—yes—but I think it would be best if you visited _me, _and not on the roof, either."

Gwaine kicked his legs. "I find it exhilarating!"

Percival appeared at the window behind us. We had agreed to split up for a time and search the grounds for Gwaine, but we both had the same idea about where he might be. Call it instinct for Gwaine's dangerous tendencies, I suppose.

"What you doing down there, mate?" Percival said with a chuckle. "Fishing?"

"Mmm, yes, caught one, too," Gwaine threw an arm around me and exhaled an ale-flavored breath. "A pretty one, so I don't think I shall give her to the cat."

Percival didn't laugh. "Leave it to a drunk to ruin a joke."

"Come on, Gwaine, let's go with Percival," I suggested, trying to sound merry. "I'm sure the three of us can cause trouble elsewhere."

Gwaine looked at the view reluctantly. "Oh, all _right._"

I took his hand, and Percival held out his. I took a few tentative steps up the incline, grasped his hand, and Percival guided both of us back through the window. The moment Gwaine was close enough for him to snatch, he all but grabbed a fistful of his shirt and jerked him through the window and back to the safety of the floor.

"Whoa, eeeeasy," Gwaine slurred, looking a little dizzy.

Percival slammed the window shut so hard that the glass shuddered. "Come on, mate," he said kindly. "Reconnaissance in our chambers."

Gwaine responded like a soldier, with a crooked salute.

We led him to bed, and eventually put him in it, too. I sat on the edge and spoke about nonsensical things—what I did that morning, my fears for Merlin, my thankfulness that the holiday was over—till he was snoring obnoxiously.

Percival was still waiting by the door. "I will accompany you back downstairs, Wren."

"It is late. I can walk alone."

Percival shrugged. "It is a wicked night. Let us walk together for a little longer."

I allowed for this, but the walk was spent in silence. Percival seemed to be keenly aware of every shadow and corner—he was worried, like I was. He saw me safely to my door, bid me goodnight, and walked back alone. I felt concern for him, too, but made myself settle down long enough to undress and sleep. I would be waking an extra hour or so earlier to clean up what was left of the feast upstairs.

Thea turned over in her bed. "Where'd you run off to?" she asked sleepily. "You were acting so strange!"

"I must have been having some instinctive empathy for Merlin," I explained lightly. "He fell ill at the feast and I went to see him."

"Oh. You _are_ an odd one." This explanation sufficed for Thea, and she fell asleep again.

…

The next morning passed without any sort of darkness of the spirit. We scrubbed dishes till our hands bled and finally took a mid-morning break, and I took the opportunity to look for Gwaine. When I came nearer to the throne room, I heard a commotion, and ducked out of the way as a procession of knights in their red capes filed out.

"Hello," I said awkwardly to Lancelot, who broke out of the line and approached when he saw me.

"Hello," Lancelot replied. "It is a good thing, that you and Percival sought out Gwaine last night. He would have been in a desperate position had he missed the…uh… enlightening briefing today."

"Enlightening?"

Lancelot glanced around, and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We are facing a new enemy, and one I do not think you or Merlin will find surprising. There are spirits—spirits of the dead, we think—faceless and numberless. They've attacked a village and left a single survivor, a young girl. We go to investigate."

I sighed heavily, but tried to speak with strength. "The knights will leave soon?"

"Very soon." Lancelot gave me a gentle smile and held out his hand. I took it, and he brought it to his lips and gave it a respectful kiss. "I will say my farewells. It is a dangerous mission we seek out."

"This isn't farewell," I said quickly. "You will take great care. No enemy can withstand the knights of Camelot."

"If only that were true!" Lancelot nodded. "But you inspire my faith in ourselves. Be safe while we are away—and—be brave, should the worst occur."

I remained calm, but my spirit felt cowardly. "I… will."

…

I waited outside the doors, watching Lancelot's retreating figure. He was such a good man… full of hope, morality, honor. Part of me wondered how imbalanced the knights of Camelot would be without him. He was like the weight of a pommel that keeps a sword strong.

"I hoped I might find you here."

I turned and Gwaine was walking over to me, and like Lancelot, ducking away from the knights that were filing out. A few of them glanced over with eye-rolling expressions, ones that were returned with a sign from Gwaine to 'move along'.

"They don't seem to like your detours to see me," I chuckled.

"They're just deeply hurt because I prefer spending time with you than I do them," Gwaine laughed. "I'm glad you're here. We've got to leave as soon as possible."

"You must need to get ready," I inferred.

"Walk with me?"

We fell into step together, my faster steps of three equaling one of his. He took my hand and wound his fingers through mine.

"Lancelot told me about your mission," I told him, to spare him a repeat. "I had a feeling something like this would happen…"

"Oh?"

"Last night was a peculiar night. It had a evil…wind."

"Evil wind, huh?" Gwaine teased.

"Ha! And just when I thought I was a good poet, too, I go and say things like that. There was that coldness that couldn't be accounted for, and poor Merlin fainted at the feast…"

"Yes! I did wonder about that. Lancelot and Gaius had him out of the room so quickly that I didn't get a chance to even see what much of the commotion was about. And by the time I stood up to see what was going on, I realized just how much I drank and it all went to my head at once. I almost had to be carted out myself."

"Well, Percival and I handled _that _when we carted you off the roof."

"Of course you di—roof? What roof? What about the roof?"

"Perhaps it is best you don't remember. I want to talk about your mission, though."

"What about it?"

"Spirits of the dead, that sort of thing."

"I personally feel that with Arthur and Merlin and Lancelot there, I will not be worried for my life whatsoever."

"Such confidence! I wish I had it!"

"Only because you must be left behind. If you could come with me, I'd make sure you were safe."

"Me—safe? What are you talking about? You're the one going to _find _the awful things and stop them from attacking another village."

"And with all the knights of the realm seeking invisible faceless devils, whom do we leave unguarded?"

"Camelot," I replied with a sigh.

"More worried about you than I am myself," Gwaine said with a laugh.

"Well, that's love," I shrugged. Then I paused and bit my lip, instantaneously regretting my flippant use of the word. Was it? Did I love him—truly? Did he consider himself in love with me? As far as I knew, we'd never talked of love. It didn't seem necessary. He was romancing me, getting to know me, and I was, in turn, pursuing the same.

"Yes," Gwaine said slowly, "I do think that is what it is."

"Oh," I said awkwardly. "What I _meant _to say… is…"

"No, wait, don't spoil it," Gwaine whirled towards me. "For it will surely be spoilt if you retract what you just said. I want to savor it."

"_Oh."_

"Does this knight of the realm get a kiss before he leaves on a dangerous journey?"

Struck with a girlish fear of never seeing him again, I threw my arms around his neck. "Maybe more than one," I promised, crashing my lips against his. I accidently knocked him back onto a door, but he didn't even seem to notice. One hand wandered across my back and into my hair, and the other reached backwards the cranked the handle of the door. We nearly fell into his room, stumbling inside and Gwaine didn't even break away from my embrace. He placed kisses along my jawline and kicked the door shut behind us.

His mouth along my neck gave me a shiver. "What—um—do you—need—to get ready?"

"Five more minutes with you?" Gwaine whispered, pulling back for a breath. He lowered me onto the bed, brushing hair from my face with tender hands.

"Three," I whispered hoarsely, entire body on some sort of alert, actively aware of every place that we were touching. I was laying on the bed, he was sort-of on top of me but not entirely. It did not seem altogether risqué, but more… convenient. But if anyone would walk in, it would look bad from their perspective…

He leaned down and kissed me soundly, catching my hand in his and our fingers were entwined again. Then he pulled back, and looked down at me. "I'm beginning to think I am not very good at saying goodbye."

"Terrible!" I laughed, pushing him away. With an uncharacteristic yelp, he slipped off the bed and landed with a thump on the floor. "Oh, sorry," I exclaimed.

"You're stronger than you know," Gwaine righted himself and brushed his clothes. "All that work you do." He leaned forward and kissed me again, and then with an impatient growl, forced himself to back away and walk over to his hanging armor.

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Stop being so intoxicating?"

"I'll do my best."

"Actually, you can help me put this chainmail over my head. I can do the rest."

I complied, heaving the heavy mail upwards till he slid his head through the opening. Then the chest and back plates were fitted over the mail, and he began to secure his gauntlets. I reached into his trunk and found his belt with the sheath attached, and wrapped my arms around his waist, bringing the belt around and giving him a cheeky smile while I buckled it.

"Hm," Gwaine said, with a smile. "Couldn't have asked for a better way to wear a belt."

"Thanks," I said lightly, finding his cloak hanging on a peg. I threw the corners over his shoulders and attached them with the broaches. Gwaine suddenly looked very professional—and out of reach, in a way. He was now fully fledged as a knight of Camelot, in uniform, and completely out of the league of a kitchen maid.

Gwaine felt the gravity of his departure swell as he put on his leather gloves, the finishing touch. "Will you see me off?"

"Yes."

His hand, with the unfamiliar brush of his leather glove, tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear. I caught his hand in mine and pressed it to my cheek, and my eyes sought his. "Come home to me. Alive."

"I make no promises," Gwaine's eyebrows furrowed as he, for a rare moment, became very serious. "I can only swear that I _want _to return to you. Alive."

…

The stones of the pavement in the courtyard were cold through my thin slippers. I hugged my arms and watched with uncertainty as the column began to ride through the gates, seeking the young girl's village and what mysteries awaited them there. Gwaine volunteered to lead the group, and part of me wondered if he could not bear to have anyone see the look of worry on his face.

"Seeing us off, then?" said a bright, chipper tone.

I turned without thinking and threw my arms around Merlin's neck. I had never embraced him in such a way before. "You are a complex and difficult person," I muttered into his neck, "And I regret every minute I did not spend getting to know you better."

He finally hugged me back. "Is this how kitchen maids say goodbye?" he chuckled.

"This is how friends say goodbye," I said, releasing him. "Stay safe. Come home."

"Goodbye, my friend," Merlin said, thoughtfully.

The last image I remembered of their parting—not of Gwaine's flying cloak, not of Merlin's pensive expression. I remember the look shared between Gwen—the servant—and Prince Arthur. A look of such fear and dread, yet there was trust, and a deep love I couldn't fathom. I realized that the bond between those two was very, very unlike what Gwaine and I had. Whatever it was—this possible love that we possessed—it would take considerable time before it became as close and as pure as the love I witnessed between them.

…

That night, I hugged my knees. It was very strangely cold. I thought perhaps I was sensing some sort of spirit commotion again, but it wasn't just me who could feel it. Thea tossed and turned and shivered, and finally, woke up, teeth chattering. We had a very small fireplace, no more than the length of my forearm, but it was brightly lit and the wood was still crackling with yellow flame.

"I was—just—going to ask—if you'd stoke the fire," Thea said, breathlessly. "But—that—doesn't—seem—to be a—problem."

"There is something going on," I said.

"Oh? What?"

"I don't know," I back-peddled, unable to explain why I said what I said in the first place. "Perhaps a storm approaches."

A shadow darted unnaturally across the space from the foot of my bed to the door. I nearly jumped out of my skin and my heart began to pound. Thea shot forward, noticing it too. Suddenly, the fire spluttered, and a few merry sparks ignited. It was almost as if it drove the shadow away—for a coldness seemed to leave our room, and the shadow disappeared under the crack beneath the door. Whatever—whatever happened—whatever IT was, it was in our room. But it left.

"You did see that?" Thea asked, trembling with fright.

"I saw it," I whispered.

There was a shiver of a far away scream, no more than an echo, barely a reminder of something that could have happened miles away. But there was no denying its' existence. The scream repeated itself, the wail of a woman at first, and then changing it's pitch for the far deeper cry of a man in terrible pain. It grew a little louder.

"What is going on!" Thea jumped out of bed, throwing her cloak on over her white shift. I followed suit, and the pair of us stood in matching, dark blue cloaks. We looked like two birds about to fly from a predator.

The alarum bell began to peal over the slumbering Camelot.

* * *

><p>…<p>

**I'm sorry it is a little short. Please read and review! And feel free to message any and all your suggestions with how to deal with the finale of season 5. I have many roads I may take with this story, and have three concrete ideas, all going in different directions. I'd love to hear all of your input =)**


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